Tanorexia

I was going to do a blog posting about volunteering, because that's what has just about worn me down over the past few weeks, but I'll do that another time (though after that Daddy/Daughter Dance I must admit I've gotten REALLY good about saying no to stuff).

What I really want to address is this:

Yes, the lady from New Jersey charged with bringing her 6-year-old daughter into the tanning room with her.  Now honestly I don't know if she actually did it or not - it's not for me to figure out.  But I think everyone agrees that the woman needs a wake up call to the fact that her skin is SCARY.  And I even picked one of the least-cringe-inducing photos floating around the Internet right now.  I'm assuming when she looks in the mirror her mind plays the same tricks on her that mine does when I think "Oh, I haven't gained that much weight."  Of course once I see a photo of myself someone has taken I start to rethink that idea right away, and there are certainly enough photos of her out there that maybe she will have the same change of heart.

But once again I tried to use a sensational media event as a teaching tool for my kids.  I showed this woman to Grace and pointed out how she and I are the SAME AGE (at least until tomorrow!).  Grace couldn't believe it, so I then read her the couple of facts about using tanning beds that were in the accompanying story - that tanning beds can transmit 12 to 15 times the ultraviolet radiation that the sun does and that some indoor tanners are more than four times likelier to develop melanoma than non-tanners. 

While I certainly didn't as a teenager (baby oil while tanning, anyone?), I very much embrace my pale skin.  And luckily genetics have given me a good enough color base that I never fall under the ghostly category.  So if you come to the town pool looking for me, be sure and look either underneath the trees or in the part of the pool shaded by the tarps, because that's where I'll be these days.  And maybe my daughter will too.