If you ever need to torture me...
....cover me in Coppertone and send me on my way.
I'd say that - generally speaking - I have relatively few idiosyncrasies.
I don't measure my sideburns with a ruler to make sure they're even.
I don't rearrange cash in my wallet so all the ex-Presidents are facing the same way.
I don't share inappropriate amounts of personal information with people I don't know.
Yet when it comes to sunscreen, and the application thereof, I am an absolute freak show.
I imagine the origins of my lunacy date back to my childhood. Growing up in Florida, you spend a lot of time with sun, sand and saltwater. Fishing, boating, water skiing. You get the idea.
The result of a lot of time spent in the sun as a youngster (without ever getting tan, for some reason) is that I can't stand the way sunscreen feels on my skin now. Can't. Stand. It.
Which makes summer golf interesting, and makes trips to the beach downright stressful.
To give you an idea of just how large a fruit loop I am in this area:
If I've been in the saltwater, I must rinse immediately with fresh water upon getting out. The sensation of sunscreen on the skin is bad enough. We don't need to bring invite salt to this party.
If I've put sunscreen on and taken the shirt off on beach (and my apologies to all you beach goers that have to see that!), the shirt does not go back on until I've had a real shower. The way a shirt sticks to me when I'm covered in sunscreen gives me the willies.
Now let's work with both of those previous items of weirdness. If there were ever a situation where I were not able to rinse saltwater off using fresh water - and - I had to put a shirt back on over the whole deal:
Call the life insurance company.
Make sure the premium is paid-up.
And then kill me. Right there.
The sweet release of death would be a nice relief from the horror of all that greasiness, saltiness, shirty-ness. It simply could not get any worse.
And I know how dramatic that sounds. And I know you want to jump in with a comment and be all "But what about all the people in Darfur? What about how bad they've got it?"
This would be worse. At least until I could find the closest shower it would be.
So to summarize, one great idiosyncrasy of mine is that I can't stand sunscreen. Feel free to chime in if you can relate, or if there's something in your life that's equivalent.
I'd say that - generally speaking - I have relatively few idiosyncrasies.
I don't measure my sideburns with a ruler to make sure they're even.
I don't rearrange cash in my wallet so all the ex-Presidents are facing the same way.
I don't share inappropriate amounts of personal information with people I don't know.
Yet when it comes to sunscreen, and the application thereof, I am an absolute freak show.
I imagine the origins of my lunacy date back to my childhood. Growing up in Florida, you spend a lot of time with sun, sand and saltwater. Fishing, boating, water skiing. You get the idea.
The result of a lot of time spent in the sun as a youngster (without ever getting tan, for some reason) is that I can't stand the way sunscreen feels on my skin now. Can't. Stand. It.
Which makes summer golf interesting, and makes trips to the beach downright stressful.
To give you an idea of just how large a fruit loop I am in this area:
If I've been in the saltwater, I must rinse immediately with fresh water upon getting out. The sensation of sunscreen on the skin is bad enough. We don't need to bring invite salt to this party.
If I've put sunscreen on and taken the shirt off on beach (and my apologies to all you beach goers that have to see that!), the shirt does not go back on until I've had a real shower. The way a shirt sticks to me when I'm covered in sunscreen gives me the willies.
Now let's work with both of those previous items of weirdness. If there were ever a situation where I were not able to rinse saltwater off using fresh water - and - I had to put a shirt back on over the whole deal:
Call the life insurance company.
Make sure the premium is paid-up.
And then kill me. Right there.
The sweet release of death would be a nice relief from the horror of all that greasiness, saltiness, shirty-ness. It simply could not get any worse.
And I know how dramatic that sounds. And I know you want to jump in with a comment and be all "But what about all the people in Darfur? What about how bad they've got it?"
This would be worse. At least until I could find the closest shower it would be.
So to summarize, one great idiosyncrasy of mine is that I can't stand sunscreen. Feel free to chime in if you can relate, or if there's something in your life that's equivalent.
posted by Leighton @ My Best Investments at
3:17 AM
5 Comments:
...aeresol spray sunscreen is our lifesaver... it goes on thin and has alcohol to dry it up... no hands involved and no slick barrier... of course - we live in Canada and it only have sun for 3 weeks of the year!!
It's hereditary, because I feel the same way. However, I came here to say exactly the same thing as Cheryl. We use Bullfrog and that doesn't have the slimy/greasy feeling to it.
I'm pretty sure that I am the bane of his existence since every time he goes outside I chirp, "Do you have sunscreen on your neck and ears and nose and face? Huh? Do you? You really need some!" Yeah. He loves that.
That's it -- there's Arbonne sunscreen in the mail to you right away. And some for those babies whose pix are at Runaway Mommy!
XOXO
I second the aerosol sunscreen. You don't get that sticky, lotiony feeling. It pretty much evaporates.
There's also the sunscreen wipes. Some are less lotiony than others.
I put the aerosol stuff on my kids. Mine is Coppertone. I think I've got 30spf. I barely spray them sometimes (though covering all areas - just being quick about it) and they've yet to get a sunburn.
Worth a shot.
Geez. Remember back when the highest SPF was 15?
Nancy
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