I decided to get a jump on spring the other morning and pulled out the self-tanning lotion. I realized very quickly the problem with living alone: I can't rub the lotion on my back! In this modern age of Suntan = Bad and Self-Tan = Good, are we creating a new way of recognizing the spinsters? We're the ones with the white stripe down the middle of our backs!
I thought I would outsmart this dilemma by using the spray-on tanner, momentarily forgetting that it turns me orange and that I should have thrown it out two years ago when I first realized this. I boldly sprayed where no tanning lotion had gone, then grabbed the back washer out of the shower to spread it around. Ingenious!
Not so. Last night I glanced in the mirror when I applied more lotion. I could see exactly where the tanner had sprayed. I need to hire myself out as an auto paint detailer - I have racing stripes! My back reminds me of the Mustang I saw pulling out onto the highway yesterday, with those twin white stripes running down the body. The car was a deep red, though, not orange. It's a great look - on a car!
It saddens me to think there was some redeeming value to the last guy I lived with. He would rub the lotion on my back. And here, all this time, I have been claiming he was good for nothing. Whodathunkit?
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