Around this time of year I start looking at my pasty white legs and I find myself dreaming about the warm glow of the sun gently tinting them a shimmering brown. The siren call of the tanning bed begins blaring so loudly in my head that my vehicle will often shift to autopilot and before I realize it I am sitting in the parking lot of the tanning salon with no recollection of how I even got there.
I go to the tanning salon a handful of times to give myself a great base tan before beach season officially hits. When summer finally arrives, oh my, do I lay there as often as possible for hours on end soaking up those glorious rays with every inch of my being. I love the beach and personally think I look so much better when my skin is a glowing bronze.
I was born and raised here on the Jersey Shore where I have resided for decades on the opposite side of the bridge that leads to THAT Jersey Shore. You know the one I'm talking about...where tanning is a daily activity, there are more gold chains than Mr.T could have dreamed of and where the height of hair poof's rival the nations tallest buildings. In my youth (remember what I looked like?) if I ended up over there with friends there would inevitably be confrontations between that lot and my pale, artsy friends. We couldn't understand their big hair and MC Hammer pants and they didn't get why we wore all black and our clothing was safety pinned together.
Fast forward to today, where our once exclusive musical tastes have long lost their mystique thanks to the day when bands like Nirvana and Green Day hit Top 40 lists. Seaside is still full of big hair, just without the MC Hammer pants (I still don't get it...) and even has a hit TV show all about the antics that occur there. There are still confrontations, but mostly because someone is way too drunk and out of control. The days of separate groups and rival cliques seem long gone. Husband and I only go there occasionally for a few drinks, like this past Saturday when we met up with friends for the St. Patty's Day celebration. The bars were so packed we could barely move, it took about half of an hour to wave down the bartender each time to get another drink, and while walking back to the car there were stumbling drunks to dodge everywhere. I laughed to my sober self and shook my head thinking that some things will just never change.
Then this morning as I was getting dressed in these pants, lamenting that my legs are too white to bare and it was too warm for tights, I looked in the mirror at my heavy chains and hair and asked my husband;
"Oh my gosh...does it look like I have a Snooki poof?"
cafe capri: jcrew
sunglasses: banana republic
bracelets: bought at this lovely ladies holiday shopping party
*upon further reflection I decided it just looks like I am wearing one of those "bump-its". Not that that makes it any better... ;)
** ironically I got a good chuckle out of the old post I linked up as it had a very similar vibe!