So, for some odd reason I feel like starting out my blog by talking about the interesting world of deep-fried human flesh: TANNING!
Why is it, that we, as human beings, feel this strong need to char our flesh for vanity purposes? Don't get me wrong, I have been there...I have DONE that. We all have our slip ups. I have a tendency to get very pale and fish-like in the fall and winter months and sometimes have felt the need to add a splash of color to my skin.
Personally, I think this is where things get a bit unfair. For a guy, our only acceptable coloring option is via sun/tanning. We, for some reason, are not allowed the luxury of slapping bronzers and cremes/creams (??) on our faces to add a healthy look. If we do, we are made fun of. We are demoralized and stripped of our masculinity. So, in a harmful attempt to keep from appearing too "white-faced" in the cold months, we run to the nearest tanning beds in our areas when desperation consumes our minds. Well, it's not so much of a "RUN" as it is a slow, inconspicuous, creep towards the salon. We do our best to appear unnoticeable and coy. We make no small talk with the always teenage-girl behind the desk (seriously, is it always the same girl? does she ever age?), not wanting to draw unwanted attention to ourselves for fear of someone shouting, "FREAKY MAN TANNER!" at us as we stumble to room #14 nervously.
Some of us wear hats and tilt them low over our faces in a hapless attempt to hide our identities. We do this inadvertently yearning to feel like a celebrity avoiding the paparazzi. We do this to get closer to our inner Michael Jackson. We want to wear the full on surgical mask, but we don't have the balls.
We nod quietly and never make eye contact as the bored salon-girl rambles to us about how to use the bed. Just the thought of someone telling me, "HOW TO USE THE BED" gets me nervous. It's so perverse! It's So wrong! So...unnatural! We should always, instantly just innately KNOW how to use "a bed"!!!!
When we are finally left alone in those cubicle-like rooms we ALWAYS rush to undress. It's always frenzied, crazed and manic. In my mind, I am thinking the bed is going to turn on before I get in it. Like this would be the end of the world! I personally don't get down to my undies. I always wear a pair of shorts and...oddly, I leave my socks on. I have this odd phobia of contracting some form of planters warts anytime I am barefooted in strange places....so, I would rather leave my socks on then walk around that cubicle sock-less. Strange, YES...But, that's just me!
The first time I ever went tanning I was 17 years old and prepping myself for Prom. My mother told me how pale I looked and that I needed color in my face for the photos and to compliment my lovely date. I hesitantly walked myself over to the local gym near my home that also had tanning beds in it. I had never tanned, but I wanted to seem mature and knowledgeable so when asked if I knew how to "use the beds" (what did I say!?) I decided to fib and proclaim, "OF COURSE!"
The salon-attendant left me to my own devices in the cramped quarter and I had to guestimate what was what. It seemed pretty simple. Get your clothes off and get in the tomb of ultraviolet cancer rays. I peeled off my clothes and laid them all gently on the chair next to the bed. I nimbly sprayed the "baby powder" deoderant under my arms and switched the "Hits Of The 70's" cd in the disc-player to a "Hits of the 80's" one.
I took a look down at the bed and saw a spray bottle in the middle of it and was anxious to get whatever lotion or accelerator might be contained within it onto my skin. I sprayed away, starting at my legs and working my way up. Spritzing quickly and efficiently. I barely had time to notice the bleach smell wafting up to my nostrils before I had pulled the trigger onto my face. I was soaked in CLOROX!! My eyes welled up in tears, my nasal cavity was filled with the flames of hell, and my lungs were instantly clogged with noxious vapours.
But, the best part about it...I still got in that bed.
I used the green (not for long!) towell that was already laid out and wiped my bleach-soaked body off and hopped in that bed! I didn't want to embarrass myself further by having to explain the bleach to the employees and, fearing the loss of 5.95 (that was the price at the time) I took the 15 minute risk of frying my flesh, which was now coated in an extremely harsh chemical.
Needless to say, I burned my skin...Pretty bad! I was lobster red and had actual welt-like burns covering my chest. I wound up getting extremely ill that night as well.
I threw up, was feverish and almost wound up in the hospital.
So, my first attempt at a tanning bed went swimmingly....how would it fare for me years later???
8 years later...
So, I am older and wiser at this point. I have lived and learned. I am an independant adult living with my mother. YES! I am so cool! I practically oooze awesomeness!
I find myself in a similar situation, worried that my skin is too white for a wedding I am attending. I decide to randomely stop at a tanning salon in my area while out and about. The awning outside the building said, "Tanning and Wellness" So I felt like I was in good hands.
Little did I know the kinds of hands I was almost in.
I walked up to the door and pulled the handle, thinking it was like every other door in the universe and would open when you pulled it. Nope. No opening here. I notice a little sign mounted on the door saying, "Ring bell to enter" so, being the good human that I am, I follow the instructions. I am confused at this note and curious as to why I would have to ring a doorbell at a tanning salon, especially one in my almost rural town of Chester.
I start to turn around to head down the steps back to my car when a tiny, wrinkled Asian face peers out and asks, "What You want?" in a rather loud, heavily accented, DIRECT manner. I jump a little at the forcefullness of the woman's question. I am not used to being spoken to in this manner. I am used to SPEAKING to people in this manner, but CERTAINLY not being spoken to in it. Afterall, remember, I was royalty in a past life. I do not respond to commands...I do the commanding! :)
After hesitating a moment, I pull myself together and point to the sign and say, "I just wanted to tan". The woman eyes me up and down with her sharp, judging eyes. "Drivers Liscence Preease!" She demands, still eyeing me up. I feel like she is performing some sort of laser surgery on my joints...that's how focused she was looking at me. I naively hand over my ID with no second thoughts. Why would they need my ID to tan??
After handing me my ID back and a brief moment of silence she exclaims roughly, "You come in now!"once again startling me with her audacity and tone of voice. I stumble inside after she opens the door and glance around the strange room I am now inhabiting. There are shower stalls lining the walls. Literally, lining the walls!
I am confused. I want to tan, I do not want to shower. I am clean. I have cleansed. I have used ZEST! I have no need for sudsing and showering!
I stand there in awe of the stalls and a strange understanding flows through me right when "SHE" flows down the stairs. I can't say what she was wearing, since I really can't remember, but I just remember her being an older woman (probably in her 50's) and having nails as long as Freddy Kruger's knife-fingers. She meanders down the stairs into the shower-stall room at me, like a cat hunting a mouse. I start to tremble. I know where I am! This is a sexy-time parlor!!! This is the kind of place men come to get "Happy Endings" and I am now trapped...Confined...imprisoned! This rush of complete understanding comes too late as the woman runs her long, multi-colored nails up my arm.
"Helllooooooo...What you here for?" She asks, her L's sounding more like R's.
"Ummm, I saw the tanning sign outside and really need to tan...I have a wedding...it's coming up...I'm really pale...I just want to tan" I say, stumbling over my words nervously.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh, you say you want the tan?" she purrs, the claws raking my arm up and down. I fear them scratching me. I do NOT want to contract Hep-C.
"Yes, I just want to tan. I am really pale and my face needs color." I say again.
"You suuuuuuuuuuure, that's all you want????" She asks suggestively. This time, her hands are actually rubbing my arm in a seductive manner. The claws have retracted. She is going in full-steam-massage mode. I need to act fast!
"YES...Tanning is all I want! Real tanning! I JUST want to tan! That's it!" I say. I am scared to death of this woman and her touchy ways. I feel like Adrian Monk. I want to bathe my body in purell!
Suddenly, her demeanor changes. She shifts into another person. She goes from 'Memoirs Of A Geisha' to 'Valley Girl' in the blink of an eye. She slouches, loses the accent and rolls her eyes.
"Ugh, how long do you want to go in for?" She says in a completely different voice.
She is annoyed.
"10 minutes" I say quickly.
"That's 15 dollars" she states matter of factly.
"That's too much for me today, I'll come back later!" I say and quickly rush out the door.
I run to my car as if I am being pursued by a masked killer. I can feel her hot, fetid breath on my neck, her rake-like talons slicing across my back. I think I may have even screamed as I drove off. I know I may have even urinated in my pants a little.
I headed home in shock. I had just been to a sexy-time massage parlor with no clue of what was going to happen!!!
The funny thing is that I know several guys NOW who have been to this place and have expressed how enjoyable this place WAS (it has since been raided and closed by police-much to the dismay of lonely, horny Chester-men. I am one of the few who is scared and mortified of being touched and massaged in sensuous ways.
I could have been killed in that place!
Anyways, these are two experiences at tanning salons. I have rambled long enough. I hope you take heed the next time you decide to stop in at a tanning salon. You might wind up with a not so "happy ending"
Why is it, that we, as human beings, feel this strong need to char our flesh for vanity purposes? Don't get me wrong, I have been there...I have DONE that. We all have our slip ups. I have a tendency to get very pale and fish-like in the fall and winter months and sometimes have felt the need to add a splash of color to my skin.
Personally, I think this is where things get a bit unfair. For a guy, our only acceptable coloring option is via sun/tanning. We, for some reason, are not allowed the luxury of slapping bronzers and cremes/creams (??) on our faces to add a healthy look. If we do, we are made fun of. We are demoralized and stripped of our masculinity. So, in a harmful attempt to keep from appearing too "white-faced" in the cold months, we run to the nearest tanning beds in our areas when desperation consumes our minds. Well, it's not so much of a "RUN" as it is a slow, inconspicuous, creep towards the salon. We do our best to appear unnoticeable and coy. We make no small talk with the always teenage-girl behind the desk (seriously, is it always the same girl? does she ever age?), not wanting to draw unwanted attention to ourselves for fear of someone shouting, "FREAKY MAN TANNER!" at us as we stumble to room #14 nervously.
Some of us wear hats and tilt them low over our faces in a hapless attempt to hide our identities. We do this inadvertently yearning to feel like a celebrity avoiding the paparazzi. We do this to get closer to our inner Michael Jackson. We want to wear the full on surgical mask, but we don't have the balls.
We nod quietly and never make eye contact as the bored salon-girl rambles to us about how to use the bed. Just the thought of someone telling me, "HOW TO USE THE BED" gets me nervous. It's so perverse! It's So wrong! So...unnatural! We should always, instantly just innately KNOW how to use "a bed"!!!!
When we are finally left alone in those cubicle-like rooms we ALWAYS rush to undress. It's always frenzied, crazed and manic. In my mind, I am thinking the bed is going to turn on before I get in it. Like this would be the end of the world! I personally don't get down to my undies. I always wear a pair of shorts and...oddly, I leave my socks on. I have this odd phobia of contracting some form of planters warts anytime I am barefooted in strange places....so, I would rather leave my socks on then walk around that cubicle sock-less. Strange, YES...But, that's just me!
The first time I ever went tanning I was 17 years old and prepping myself for Prom. My mother told me how pale I looked and that I needed color in my face for the photos and to compliment my lovely date. I hesitantly walked myself over to the local gym near my home that also had tanning beds in it. I had never tanned, but I wanted to seem mature and knowledgeable so when asked if I knew how to "use the beds" (what did I say!?) I decided to fib and proclaim, "OF COURSE!"
The salon-attendant left me to my own devices in the cramped quarter and I had to guestimate what was what. It seemed pretty simple. Get your clothes off and get in the tomb of ultraviolet cancer rays. I peeled off my clothes and laid them all gently on the chair next to the bed. I nimbly sprayed the "baby powder" deoderant under my arms and switched the "Hits Of The 70's" cd in the disc-player to a "Hits of the 80's" one.
I took a look down at the bed and saw a spray bottle in the middle of it and was anxious to get whatever lotion or accelerator might be contained within it onto my skin. I sprayed away, starting at my legs and working my way up. Spritzing quickly and efficiently. I barely had time to notice the bleach smell wafting up to my nostrils before I had pulled the trigger onto my face. I was soaked in CLOROX!! My eyes welled up in tears, my nasal cavity was filled with the flames of hell, and my lungs were instantly clogged with noxious vapours.
But, the best part about it...I still got in that bed.
I used the green (not for long!) towell that was already laid out and wiped my bleach-soaked body off and hopped in that bed! I didn't want to embarrass myself further by having to explain the bleach to the employees and, fearing the loss of 5.95 (that was the price at the time) I took the 15 minute risk of frying my flesh, which was now coated in an extremely harsh chemical.
Needless to say, I burned my skin...Pretty bad! I was lobster red and had actual welt-like burns covering my chest. I wound up getting extremely ill that night as well.
I threw up, was feverish and almost wound up in the hospital.
So, my first attempt at a tanning bed went swimmingly....how would it fare for me years later???
8 years later...
So, I am older and wiser at this point. I have lived and learned. I am an independant adult living with my mother. YES! I am so cool! I practically oooze awesomeness!
I find myself in a similar situation, worried that my skin is too white for a wedding I am attending. I decide to randomely stop at a tanning salon in my area while out and about. The awning outside the building said, "Tanning and Wellness" So I felt like I was in good hands.
Little did I know the kinds of hands I was almost in.
I walked up to the door and pulled the handle, thinking it was like every other door in the universe and would open when you pulled it. Nope. No opening here. I notice a little sign mounted on the door saying, "Ring bell to enter" so, being the good human that I am, I follow the instructions. I am confused at this note and curious as to why I would have to ring a doorbell at a tanning salon, especially one in my almost rural town of Chester.
I start to turn around to head down the steps back to my car when a tiny, wrinkled Asian face peers out and asks, "What You want?" in a rather loud, heavily accented, DIRECT manner. I jump a little at the forcefullness of the woman's question. I am not used to being spoken to in this manner. I am used to SPEAKING to people in this manner, but CERTAINLY not being spoken to in it. Afterall, remember, I was royalty in a past life. I do not respond to commands...I do the commanding! :)
After hesitating a moment, I pull myself together and point to the sign and say, "I just wanted to tan". The woman eyes me up and down with her sharp, judging eyes. "Drivers Liscence Preease!" She demands, still eyeing me up. I feel like she is performing some sort of laser surgery on my joints...that's how focused she was looking at me. I naively hand over my ID with no second thoughts. Why would they need my ID to tan??
After handing me my ID back and a brief moment of silence she exclaims roughly, "You come in now!"once again startling me with her audacity and tone of voice. I stumble inside after she opens the door and glance around the strange room I am now inhabiting. There are shower stalls lining the walls. Literally, lining the walls!
I am confused. I want to tan, I do not want to shower. I am clean. I have cleansed. I have used ZEST! I have no need for sudsing and showering!
I stand there in awe of the stalls and a strange understanding flows through me right when "SHE" flows down the stairs. I can't say what she was wearing, since I really can't remember, but I just remember her being an older woman (probably in her 50's) and having nails as long as Freddy Kruger's knife-fingers. She meanders down the stairs into the shower-stall room at me, like a cat hunting a mouse. I start to tremble. I know where I am! This is a sexy-time parlor!!! This is the kind of place men come to get "Happy Endings" and I am now trapped...Confined...imprisoned! This rush of complete understanding comes too late as the woman runs her long, multi-colored nails up my arm.
"Helllooooooo...What you here for?" She asks, her L's sounding more like R's.
"Ummm, I saw the tanning sign outside and really need to tan...I have a wedding...it's coming up...I'm really pale...I just want to tan" I say, stumbling over my words nervously.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh, you say you want the tan?" she purrs, the claws raking my arm up and down. I fear them scratching me. I do NOT want to contract Hep-C.
"Yes, I just want to tan. I am really pale and my face needs color." I say again.
"You suuuuuuuuuuure, that's all you want????" She asks suggestively. This time, her hands are actually rubbing my arm in a seductive manner. The claws have retracted. She is going in full-steam-massage mode. I need to act fast!
"YES...Tanning is all I want! Real tanning! I JUST want to tan! That's it!" I say. I am scared to death of this woman and her touchy ways. I feel like Adrian Monk. I want to bathe my body in purell!
Suddenly, her demeanor changes. She shifts into another person. She goes from 'Memoirs Of A Geisha' to 'Valley Girl' in the blink of an eye. She slouches, loses the accent and rolls her eyes.
"Ugh, how long do you want to go in for?" She says in a completely different voice.
She is annoyed.
"10 minutes" I say quickly.
"That's 15 dollars" she states matter of factly.
"That's too much for me today, I'll come back later!" I say and quickly rush out the door.
I run to my car as if I am being pursued by a masked killer. I can feel her hot, fetid breath on my neck, her rake-like talons slicing across my back. I think I may have even screamed as I drove off. I know I may have even urinated in my pants a little.
I headed home in shock. I had just been to a sexy-time massage parlor with no clue of what was going to happen!!!
The funny thing is that I know several guys NOW who have been to this place and have expressed how enjoyable this place WAS (it has since been raided and closed by police-much to the dismay of lonely, horny Chester-men. I am one of the few who is scared and mortified of being touched and massaged in sensuous ways.
I could have been killed in that place!
Anyways, these are two experiences at tanning salons. I have rambled long enough. I hope you take heed the next time you decide to stop in at a tanning salon. You might wind up with a not so "happy ending"
No comments:
Post a Comment