Tango’d
Lucy Davis - severe case of tanorexia. Access via Go Fug Yourself
Aaah, I think I might be ‘tanorexic’!
On Saturday, Spring blew in on a hot gravy breeze and suddenly everything was different; people eagerly departed with their clothes, topped up on their supply of hayfever meds and donned their manky old thongs to hit the streets and make the most of the warmth.
When I headed home from work, my flatmates too had changed. It was as if everyone had been infected with a happiness virus and the urge to take off as much of their clothing as possible.
Of course, the only problem was that after a very long winter of covering up, we were all fluorescent white.
My flatmate Gen decided she would try a fake tan and I was inspired by her bravery so followed along. We devoted hours to exfoliating, applying and standing naked in our respective rooms as it dried, checking every ten minutes whether we had changed and were suddenly gaww-geous… Then I woke up this morning in my current state.
Why is it that fake tan never looks anything but fake and horrible? And why is it that it is almost 100 per cent impossible to remove. I was secretly feeling quite OK about it when I woke up this morning; ‘Yeh, I look pretty good really, like a beachy girl with a life so cruisy I can spend hours lying in the sun relaxing.’ But when my boyfriend arrived, the doubt set in.
Usually a sensitive and caring person, he tried to hold back the grin but eventually couldn’t stifle his giggles as his eyes flicked up and down my orange face and body. He was hysterical and the more I looked in the mirror, the more I felt my Spring happiness fade…
Now I have to face two classes in a row of people no doubt wondering whether I’ve developed a skin condition. But what’s strange and disturbing is that so far, no-one has mentioned it. It’s difficult to know whether this is a good thing or not. If people mention it, then it is obvious that I have done a really bad job of faking it but if people don’t, does that mean they don’t want to state the obvious or risk breaking into laughter like a certain boyfriend of mine?
