In addition to lounging around in the sun by the pool, I have also taken to getting color in the tanning salon. My friend and I go together and chit chat while waiting for our booth to open up.
First, we have a conversation that never wavers. It is always the same; she is very white and she doesn't tan (except she thinks she does, so shhhh, don't tell her). Every time we are sitting there waiting for our chance in the cancer booth, I turn to her and say, "Why don't you just give me your money and pretend you were in the booth for eight minutes?" And let me tell you, eight minutes is a craaazzzy day for her; usually, she can usually only stand six.
Yet she looks at me like I have three heads and I look at her the same way because I'm thinking, in the one of her three heads, she actually thinks she's getting tan.
After we have that conversation and a quick laugh, we people watch. Oh, the people there are to watch. It's amazing the cross section of society you see in the tanning salon. Men and women, young and old, fat and thin, tall and short, gay and straight and even the prim and proper to the pierced and tatooed.
I am truly amazed. I didn't think this many people went tanning. I saw an old man the other day that walked out looking like he had already been in the sun for 150 years and I was thinking, why?
But, since I'm one of them, I can't really pick too much. I just walk out of there knowing that I got my money's worth. I'm Italian and can tan from a desk lamp that's too bright.
The only pleasure I get is that the heat is over in twelve minutes and I don't have to go home afterwards and fish sand out of my bathing suit and ass crack.