Anyway, this post is not actually about how I throw up in my purse every time I hear "Play That Funky Music;" it's about how I shouldn't be in charge of my own life.
This past Sunday, a bunch of my really pretty friends got together to go swimming. Like I said, they're all really pretty, so I was hesitant to join them at first, but in the end my inner pool-starved 12-year-old won out over my inner fat kid. Granted, at age 12, those were one in the same*...but I digress.
It was the perfect day for a swim. The sun was shining, there was a hint of a breeze, and the pool water was neither ice cold nor contaminated with human waste (which is more than I can say for the first pool we tried to go to) and best of all, there were BABIES in SWIMSUITS! I splashed around like an idiot for several glorious minutes before I realized that all the actual adults were laying out on beach chairs, carefully positioned for maximum sun exposure.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered. As I surveyed all my friends with their sparkling brown skin, it was decided. This would be the year - nay, the DAY - I would finally capture the one thing that has eluded me my entire life: a tan. Gone would be the days of my friends and family boosting their self-confidence via a side-by-side comparison of our forearms! Never again would I be mistakenly invited to join an albino support group! NEVER! From this day on, I would be a bronze goddess, just like my friends.
I failed to consider two things.
- At least half of the girls I was hanging out with that day are of either Latin or at least one-seventy-second Native American descent.
- My ancestors are Irish...meaning I am terminally freckly and pale and somewhat shaped like a potato.
I would have mentioned it sooner, but it's been kind of a sore subject.**
*Which explains how I earned the nickname "Butterball" from my friend's older brother. It was an expertly crafted insult, because while it seemed at first glance to be nothing more than another run-of-the-mill fat joke, it became clear upon closer inspection that it was also a dig at my spectacular lack of color, as the skin of an uncooked turkey is one of the more disgustingly pallid things on this earth.
**Ya see what I did there?! I kill me.