It’s “Stay Out of the Sun Day”, “Disobedience Day”, and “Compliment Your Mirror Day”

Great. We’re taking a trip to Idaho Springs today. The plan is to hang out at the hot springs pool. Fantastic. So, I’ll just knock two things out right away: I’m going to be disobedient by playing in the sun today.

Seriously though, skin cancer is a big flipping deal. Kids, wear your sunscreen.

My older sister, Cassi, used to BAKE in the sun. And, quite honestly, I was jealous. Jealous because it takes me 90 days of consistent exposure to get any sort of tan – and that’s just all the freckles finally merging together. My sister, however, could be outside for two hours and be a bronzed beauty. In fact, back in the late 1970’s, the only reason I had any friends in my neighborhood during the summer (I was the lone female in a pack of males) was because all of my “buddies” wanted to come to my house to watch Cassi sunning herself in her ultra skimpy bikini. And she had quite a rack back in the day. Meanwhile, I couldn’t get a tan AND I didn’t need to wear a bra until college. Nope. No sibling issues here. 🙂

We used to take a family trip to Myrtle Beach every summer up until I was about 12 years old. I hated these trips because 1) I burst into flames in the sun, and 2) I’m not a fan of sand. I like to swim. I love water. I love boating, fishing, most things that go along with H2O, but I’m just not a fan of the beach. Plus, I’m pale. You can see me coming a mile away. And no one wanted to see me because I didn’t have any boobs. It’s a no-win situation.

Sarah on the beach

Nearly every summer I got a burn bad enough to cause nasty blisters (I know! I know!) I’d walk around for a week or so afterward holding myself as still as possible. It hurt terribly. One particular summer, sporting my usual crispy-fried skin, I was gingerly walking up the stairs to my bedroom. As I rounded the corner,  holding my neck as rigid as possible to avoid searing pain, I saw a BAT hanging upside down from the top of my Map of the United States. He was sleeping. I was terrified. Do I scream? Should I move? Ouch! Moving will cause friction to my sunburn! What if this bat has rabies? Then I’ll get bit and end up having a sunburn AND rabies! As I began my retreat and started to call for backup, the bat woke up. Sunburn be damned! I was out of there! We both started flying. The bat was flying circles around my room as I was flying down the stairs. I found my brother-in-law and persuaded him to go clear it out. He did, using a Tuperware bowl and a creative use of the wall. My advice: Never wake a sleeping bat when you have a nasty sunburn.

Disobedience Day. I’ve made a career out of being disobedient – at least in a passive-aggressive way. And I’m a believer in the old adage that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I will be disobedient until I spontaneously combust. If I were a dog, I’d be in remedial training, eventually returned to the shelter, and awaiting some sweet person who just doesn’t care about my disobedience. At least I’m lovable. But if you ignore me I’ll eat your favorite shoe.

Compliment Your Mirror Day. I like this. Some of you may not know this but I suffer from a debilitating disease: Low Self Esteem. I think it’s because of the whole “no-boobs” issue. Anyway, I struggle. Recently, my husband has been trying to help me with this by drawing a great big heart on my side of the bathroom mirror with a marker (not permanent). Above the heart he writes things. This week, it says “You’re Yummy-licious”. He’s made other statements like “You are Loved”, stuff like that. It’s very sweet. So, after my shower this morning, I’m going to look into the mirror. I’m going to say, “Hey. You’re Yummy-licious. You’re Loved.” Let’s all give it a try!

And then I’m off to Idaho Springs to scare everyone with my crazy pale legs.

More tomorrow. 🙂

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1 Comment

  1. I’m one big freckle, too, and used to get pissed off at all my friends who turned brown on Day One of summer vacation. But I made up for it by having big boobs.

    I’ve always been disobedient, too, but my parents called it “going through a rebellious phase.” I’ve toned it down a bit in my mid-fifties, but I still get the urge to sneak out of the house at night and take the car for a joy ride.

    If my husband called me “Yummy-licious” I’d faint dead away and not need self esteem or a mirror anymore.

    We should start a Pale Leg support group 🙂


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