No matter where you live: California, The Midwest, Canada or Europe, it seems that everyone has a desperate desire to be a
beautifully bronzed goddess. Unfortunately for 80% of us (and yes, this is a completely made up statistic to prove a point), we were born melanin handicapped, otherwise known as pale. To be one of the very few white girls in California (the land of fake n' bake/orange people) was excruciating. Everyone lived for the tanning bed as I hid from the sun. As the years went on, the difference in our colorings became more apparent, and soon it was a daily event for someone to ask numerous questions about my skin...
- Why are you SO white?
- Do you EVER go in the sun?
- Why don't you go tanning?
- Why don't you lay out?
- Have you thought of a spray tan?
AND MY FAVORITE...
- Really? You're going to wear shorts?
Each question was accompanied by a look of overwhelming disgust. I quickly understood that my apathetic attitude towards brown skin was unbearable (for others), and I began to get the feeling that my personal brand of
white was traumatizing the human race. I suddenly became completely uncomfortable in my fair skin and I pushed to change everything about myself. For one entire summer, I used a combination of St. Tropez Bronzing Mouse and Jergens Gradual Tan to change my beautiful alabaster glow to a muddy orange mess; in my mind, anything was better than my
unfortunate evolutionary mishap. I spent hundreds of dollars to look closer to an oompa-loompa than a human, accomplishing nothing more than ruining my clothes and sheets. The more I tried to become tan, the more I began to resent it.
I soon had an epiphany....
I actually didn't mind my white skin...at all.
I never once looked at my skin and thought, "WOW, I am so white. That is so disgusting!
Why has the universe cursed me so!?" After a time of personal reflection, I realized that I was tanning with one goal in mind: to get everyone off my back! I wanted the criticism to stop; I wanted to go a day without a barrage of ridiculous questions accompanied by a
"stank face". I realized that everyone else, NOT ME, had the problem with my skin color. These days I rock my short-shorts, tanks and flips...daring the world to say something
Just try it
Being light skinned may not be the "in thing" at the moment, but there are some forgotten perks to being pale...
- You age slower. Have you ever noticed that those who worship the sun have defined wrinkles, even at a young age? Sun-damage ages you much more quickly, and if you want the fountain of youth, it's staying out of the sun. If you still need proof, scroll down to the picture of Britney Spears vs. Dita Von Teese (go on now).
- It's less expensive to be fair. You don't have to spend money on fake tanning lotions or tanning beds. Also, your make-up color doesn't change from season to season. As the summer comes, you're still the same as you were in winter, so that expensive foundation is still perfect to wear. You don't have to try to find a new color, it's so much less hassle and you'll never have a "make-up mask".
- Less risk of cancer. C'mon, this is an obvious one. You are at a higher risk for skin cancer with each severe sunburn, especially those obtained at a young age.
 |
| Tanned: Age 31 Fair: Age 40 |
Let's recap: fair skin saves money, make-up is easier to purchase, it keeps you looking younger and it helps to prevent cancer. From what I can tell, being a pale person is super convenient! So maybe you glow in the sun (and probably in the dark), so your veins are easily seen (you'll just attract a hot vampire like Roman Godfrey) and maybe you get a few awkward stares here and there (they're just jealous of how fine you look)...
...being fair is beautiful
.
The cherry on The Big Brother sundae this summer (or winter?) has been Australia. Out of the three it has the most entertaining group as a whole. The season kicked off a few weeks ago with the terribly awkward "Marriage Task" of Drew and Jade. These complete strangers spent an entire week masquerading as a newlywed couple, sharing a bed and playing up the PDA in order to avoid eviction. At times they slipped and became rather unconvincing, but no matter what happened, you couldn't help but love them. It was clear from the get-go that poor Drew fell for Jade, but since the beginning she's made a point to refer to him as "her bestie", often reminding him that he isn't her type and how disgusting his hair smells. Poor Drew, he has definitely been sent to the ultimate Big Brother Friendzone and he is never breaking free. Lucky for him (and for us all) he has Tim who is undoubtedly the quirkiest housemate of the year. While I originally found him to be over-the-top obnoxious, I now find him completely hilarious. Tim is the one person willing to do just about anything in order entertain himself and the viewers; he doesn't give a damn about being liked which makes him the perfect antagonist for The Big Brother House. He entered the game ready to play the villain and he completely embodied the role by sadistically withholding food from the halfway house during the first week of the show. "Why should we feed them, we won't have as much food over here? Don't give them anything." He is a strange mix of a Berkley hippie and an 80's hair-band guitarist, even admitting to being intrigued by the idea of marrying a dolphin. He is a riddle wrapped in an enigma and I can't wait to watch his antics every night. But the winner of the show has got to be the precious human being Ben. He's an unemployed flight attendant who carries on conversations with the photos of his mom and gran. He even cried when he thought that the house was mad at him for believing in the "Drade" charade. Ben reminds me of a socially awkward grown man who lives with his mother in New York City. I can imagine the pair of them dressing up in smelly old fur coats and covering themselves in fake diamonds as they head out hand-in-hand to a Broadway show. His overly masculine alpha-male character that he portrays while wearing Tim's clothes is absolutely brilliant and he deserves a show centered on his life. He has to be the winner.
Although I hate to admit it, I'm one of those insecure girls that overly relies on make-up and a perfectly executed hair style to feel confident. These last few months have been a personal test to see just how I let self image effect me. A few months ago, mid-May to be specific, my beautiful hair began to fall out. Each day I'd lose about two weeks worth of hair. I'd find it all over the floor, on my clothes and I'd pull out strands just from touching my head. I'd be out with friends and find hair all over my body and have to quickly snatch it and throw it into my purse, hoping that no one had noticed. Within weeks there were mild bald patches on my temples and my scalp began to poke through my thin pieces of hair. I haven't gone to the extreme of someone with cancer, but I have lost about half.
