Pale Panic

Casper_the_friendly_ghost_4604f42d4e883Tomorrow Mother Nature FINALLY decided to throw in the winter towel and give us a little taste of spring. Thank God. Now I can literally burn my winter coat. We’ve had far too much quality time together … and it must be destroyed. But I digress.

In anticipation for the warmer weather, I was just brainstorming outfits to wear tomorrow … all of which are either dresses or skirts sans tights … and I feel like every time I imagine wearing said dress or skirt sans tights I find myself in this awareness commercial for pale skin.

Are you pale? ::: pans to me sitting around a table with my friends who are all laughing and having a good time, but I’m too busy trying to cover up my legs underneath the table::: Do you feel like pants are your only option? :::me laying in bed depressed as I pull the covers of my pale legs::: Know you aren’t alone. Paleness happens to everyone. :::”The More You Know” star swipe:::

I’ve been pale my entire life, in fact getting tan is something I have to dedicate my life to in the summers … and ain’t nobody got time for that. And I’m not like a porcelain skin, Florence Welch pale either. I’m like pasty pale. I want to punt people who have flawless porcelain skin as a matter of fact. I’m half Irish with pasty, gross pale skin, and half damn Sicilian … SICILIAN … and don’t have a drop of gorgeous olive skin on me. HMPH. Damn you, genes. But this year I’m like EXTRA pale. Why? Well … a few years ago I decided I was done “tanning.” Maybe it was the stupid Jersey Shore show and all of those kids looking like they were a rough 40 years old because of sun exposure, maybe it’s the fact that wrinkles scare the shit out of me and I know I’m not going to be in my 20’s forev … I really don’t know. But I’m done with it.

I was the Irish girl in high school who would go out in the sun wearing no SPF or like SPF 4 because I so desperately wanted to be dark and end up getting so badly sunburned I almost had to go to the hospital. I went to tanning salons all throughout college to bring all the boys to the yard or something. And now … nothing. For the past two summers I’ve invested in SPF 30 and above, and I think last summer I went to the beach once.

So yes … I’m insanely pale, by choice. No … like uncomfortably pale. See through pale. If you ever were curious as to what my tibia looks like … you could probably get a sneak peek right now. But that doesn’t mean I can’t spray tan or use tanning creams, which I’m open to. Spray tans are expensive … so that really isn’t an option except for special occasions, and I still need to do my research on which tanning cream won’t make me look like a carrot. So this whole me having to expose my paleness to the world tomorrow has caught me ALL sorts of off guard.

My options are I either sweat it out, wear pants or tights as everyone frolics about town in cute spring dresses with exposed skin as I have a Little Mermaid moment singing “Apart of Your World” staring out my office window as I eat my feelings. Or I just embrace my paleness, be an asshole and every time someone makes a comment or makes fun of me for being so pale, throw a skin cancer statistic back in their face. Boom. Yeah … no I’m not that guy.

But I do have a little secret weapon called the maxi skirt, my friends. Hello lover. It is totally cheating the system and I loves it. I’ll be covered so no one can tell I resemble Casper the Friendly Ghost, yet still get to feel the beautiful spring breeze. Problem solved. In the meantime, I’ll be on the hunt to try and find some cream that will make me look like I’m not actually vitamin D deficient.


Confessions Of Casper The Friendly Ghost

So I’m pale. Straight up. If a claw were to drop down from the sky, pick me up from the back of my shirt and drop me in Ireland, I don’t think people would blink twice. The sad part is I’m 50% Italian, and not just Italian, Sicilian. Oh yeah, I should have some olive tint to my skin … SOMETHING. But no, the universe instead decided to play a cheap, awful trick on me that not only makes me work like a dog to get tan, but when I do expose my skin to intense sunlight, I burn like a mofo and end up with days of itchy agony. Damn you, universe, damn you :::shaking first violently::::.

Sure being sun-kissed makes everything better from mood to makeup, but after years of torturing myself with sun burns, itchy skin, sun poisoning, scars from said sun poisoning, rashes and any other gross thing you can think of that can happen to your skin … I threw in the tanning towel. I decided to embrace my paleness, like Cate Blanchett with that gorg ivory skin. Well … until now.

So my best friend, the girl who is like my sister, is getting married in a little over a month. I’ve decided I’m going to, for once, go all out in regards to looking as fabulous as fabulous can get. I’m getting my hair, makeup, toes, nails did … getting waxed and what not. The whole freaking 9. So I picture myself in all of this fabulousness, my body all Kardashian-ed out (minus the junk in the trunk), the dress, the shoes … and my pasty, pale skin? What? Yeah so here is my dilemma … to fake and bake or to spray tan … that is the question.

I truly loathe fake and baking for the following reasons: 1. A little thing called “GTL.” Yep, I’m already from Jersey and I do have Italian in me, so I’m scared I’m going to lay in the bed and 15 minutes later come out saying “I’M GOING TO THE JERSEY SHORE, BITCH!” Cue music from Psycho. 2. The smell. You know what I’m talking about, that distinct scent that makes you remember you are getting cancer. 3. It is cancer in a box. But at the end of the day, if done in the right bed, it will give you a nice healthy glow. People go tanning not to just fit the “guerilla, juicehead” look, kids. What the MTV doesn’t tell is that people tan to help depression and to give them a little life to their skin. That being said, it is still terrible for you.

Then there is spray tanning. Cancer-free, yet the risk of walking away looking like a Oompa Loompa. Walking down the aisle with orange skin? I mean slap a green wig on me and I’ll start singing, “Oompa Loompa doopity doo … I … got … a … spray … tan … like … a … damn … fool.” No thanks. How do these actresses do it? I know they all dig the spray tans … yet I see woman in everyday life looking like a weird combo of Snooki and a minion of Willy Wonka. I am looking for the perfect spray tan. Some people look for the perfect man, the perfect job, the perfect apartment, the perfect life … I just want the perfect damn spray tan. Spray tan fairy … please help me.

So unfortunately I’m leaning towards purchasing a damn tanning package right now. Something I haven’t done since i was like 18. Ugh. Beauty doesn’t just hurt … it is a God damn pain in the ass … and could potentially give you cancer and make you fist pump. This coming from someone whose skin is see through. Hmph.