Nope. My vanity knows no bounds.
Yes. I have posted a picture of myself wearing one of the suits that my famous designer friend makes for posing competitions.
Why? Because there is a story behind how I got that terrific December tan without having to lay in a bed in which my skin soaks up cancerous rays.
And I’m a big, fat show-off…and hello, I’m a narcissist! Name of the blog people.
image from Becauseyourfabulous.com
My designer friend, affectionately known as Janella, asked me if I would model the suits posted on her website for body building and figure competitions.
No, I’m not still competing.
But yes, I will always harbor a secret desire to become a famous runway model, even if high heels make me wobble, and short dresses have this weird way of bunching themselves up around my waist when I walk…
So in the spirit of making all of my dreams come true, even if this one is fading fast because I ain’t getting any younger, and even though I can squat a bar weighing as much as I do, my behind is obstinately refusing to get back up there where it belongs, I can’t afford to be choosy about what I’m modeling.
And an opportunity to feel young and cellulite-free cannot be denied.
Now, one of the tricks of the trade is nice, glowing, tanned skin.
So instead of going to the tanning beds and/or a weekend away in Jamaica, I tried spray tanning.
I swear I will never live without it from here on out.
Relatively cheap: $40.00 for one coat.
And lasts 7-10 days.
Here’s the catch though: if you don’t want the tan lines, which I couldn’t have for this fashion shoot, it’s best to go naked.
Now, as you’ve probably already figured out, I’m no prude.
But even I was taken slightly aback when the young girl wielding the spray bottle said, “Take all your clothes off and go stand on that towel.”
I replied, “As in: take all my clothes off?”
She said, “Unless you don’t mind the tan lines, but most people just get naked.”
Ok. Getting naked I sort of could handle.
After all, it’s just one girl in her early twenties.
Nobody else is around.
It’s not like I have a third nipple.
BUT THEN, she says, “Stand with your back to me, spread your legs, and put your hands against the wall.”
UMMM….it’s the “assume the position” position!
image from here
So I’m standing like this.
Only I’m buck naked.
Again, I’m not a prude.
But come on, I’m naked!
There could be hairy body parts, which are normally not privy to the human eye, hanging out there for this complete-stranger-spray-tan-lady to see.
Of course, when I’m nervous, my brain-to-mouth filter shortcircuits, and as a result, this is the kind of conversation I’m making with complete-stranger-spray-tan-lady:
“So what do people usually do while you’re spraying them?”
She replies, “They stand there.”
I ask, “What kinds of things do they talk about?”
She says, “They talk about the trip they’re about to go on. They might talk about their jobs. Maybe they tell me what they did the night before.”
I excitedly say, “I went to the bar last night!”
She replies, “That’s nice.”
I say, “I was wearing a g-string, and I danced for hours. I think my g-string gave me crotch burn. Can you tell?”…
The spray tan machine stops.
The complete-stranger-spray-tan-lady calmly replies, “Uummm…let me see…nope. There’s no rug burn. You’re good.”
I proceed to say, “No, I didn’t say rug burn…” but the machine is back on, and quite honestly, how much more degradation should I put myself through.
It’s bad enough that I’m standing in the “frisk me” position while tan-coloured dye is spraying my coochie.
I think it’s best I shut the fuck up now.