Tuesday, January 15, 2008

One of these things is not like the Other

Do you ever find yourself repeating the same mistake, but hoping for a different result? Have you ever thought, this time it will be different? Well people I am still learning my lesson.

Let me take you back to where it all began. 29 years ago, I was born an albino. I know, I don't look like your average albino. The blue eyes and violent shock of red hair that I sported as a child excluded me from the typical albino profile. But take me out into the sun and there was no denying it... I glow and not in an ethereal way. Through the years, I held onto the hope that my dormant skin pigment would one day manifest itself into beautiful olive skin. I sound delusional don't I? Most of my friends were praying they wouldn't lock braces with a boy and here I was praying for a solid tan. Eventually the heavens threw me a bone and gave me some freckles, so I was tan 'in spots'. But a girl can only endure being accused of having the chicken pox so many times... Yep, my vanity got me modern day leprosy.

Anyhoo, 29 years later I have come to the realization that I will not tan. I will burn, freckle or glow. Those are my options. I have traded the oil and foil for SPF 50 and a broad rimmed hat. I am bringing sexy back. The point of this whole diatribe is...To spray tan or not to spray tan? Is a tan in a can better than letting go & embracing my glow? You see years ago, they came up with the concept of painting pigment-challenged people such as myself. They needed a guinea pig and I was more than happy to oblige. I have been helping them perfect their products ever since. I have had the colored palms and experienced the many unnatural shades of orange to prove my dedication.

So my question is this, at what point do I embrace my inner Nicole Kidman and let that unattainable Baywatch Beauty run in slow motion off into the sunset?

P.S. I am writing this in anticipation of and preparation for a trip requiring a swimsuit. Yikes!

Monday, January 7, 2008

I have been accused of many things in life... being a gypsy is one of them. I love to travel! As a result, I never collect too much dust. Whether it's mentally or physically, I love to escape to faraway destinations. R often refers to me as a flight risk. My nomadic nature has the need to move, breathe, and explore with reckless abandon. So on this oppressive grey snow day, I am dreaming of warmer places!
Enjoy one of my favorite postscripts:

"Travel pushes my boundaries. When you travel, you become invisible, if you want. I do want. I like to be the observer. What makes people who they are? Could I feel at home here? No one expects you to have the stack of papers back by Tuesday, or to check messages, or to fertilize the geraniums. When traveling, you have the delectable possibility of not understanding a word of what is said to you. Language becomes simply musical background for watching bicycles zoom alongside a canal, calling for nothing from you. Travel releases spontaneity. You become a godlike creature full of choice, free to visit the stately pleasure domes, make love in the morning, sketch a bell tower. You open, as in childhood, and- for a time- receive this world. There's the visceral aspect, too- the huntress who is free. Free to go, free to return home bringing memories to lay on the hearth."
~Frances Mayes