So yes, I confess, I do go to the tanning bed from time to time to keep my tan going strong. Its totally like lifting weights, you know. Flesh exercise? But if I didn’t, my Sicilian skin would look yellow and sickly. Doctor, I need Vitamin D, stat. And while I’m not on a crazy tanning mission to be a sultry orange… Translucency, is not my cup of tea. Oooo, tea sounds good right now. And there’s a whole slew of tanned and toned bodies out here and I can’t possibly be odd woman out. Although, I do see many pasty faces. And. Orange. Faces. Want some tea? Back to the point… So I thought I’d go lay down for that sexy glow for fifteen minutes. I don’t know why but I always have this tiny fear that the thing is going to short circuit and fall on me. My legs hanging out of what would be… the tan sandwhich. One, Charred, Smoked Rita Club on plastic… Order up! Ding! Ding!
Ok, so it didn’t fall on me today. A total win. But I had another problem on my hands. Or rather… Bodily function. I had to tinkle. I knew I had to go potty when I talked to the -oh so ditzy girl -at the counter. Started my peepee dance as I walked to my designated room. Visions of golden waterfalls, dancing in my head, as i undressed. Instigating shivers down my spine as i slathered on the magic potion. And unadulterated bladder cramping… as I toast my tasty buns under the bulbs. Sizzle. Sizzle. Each minute passing by slower than the last. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Now, one would think, this girl was on a mission to bronze, how would we possibly have expected you to see the bathroom on your skip down the halls to the skin bakery? You are so right. There was a commode en route to my tanning room. Door open. Vacant. Fresh towels next to the sink. And yet, I chose to accomplish Mission: Bronze Goddess instead. Hello. Urinary Tract Infection. It’s been too long… But I really needed to score that tan.