Sun-Kissed

I finally have my first color of the season.

In an age where tanning and sun worshipping is frowned upon, I am still elated by the first sting of the sunburn along the edges of my bathing suit. No longer do I resemble a pasty, blue-tinged imitation of myself. I HAVE COLOR! and its not white!

I know eventually I'll curse my sun-worshipping ways, but that slight itch, or the subtle sting in the shower as the hot water hits the newly pink skin just screams summer and I for one am glad its on its way.

I have tried alternate methods. I have tried the tanning booths, the subtle tanning lotions, but nothing is the same as the color that you get from being in the sunlight. I blame the hours spent of the beach on Cape Cod in the summer, tanning myself to a dark brown and bleaching my hair to natural white blond highlights that I have to shell out a ton for now, not even on purpose, just as an afterthought of playing in the waves for hours and drying in the sun.

Even now as I sit here in my sterile office at my awful workspace with fluorescent lighting and weird office smell, I can remember how it feels to spend eight hours at the beach instead of stuck at a desk. The way the salt would form a thin layer over every inch of my body and my hair would be stiff with it, tangled in knots that would cause World War III later when my mom would try to wrestle them out. Then sheer exhaustion blankets the sun soaked body, content and satisfied with a day well-spent and another on its way.

Even now, as I sit here absentmindedly scratching at my newly sun kissed skin, I can smell the Cape Cod summer and I would give anything to feel that way again.