Wedding Worry of the Week: My (Nonexistent) Tan

I recently saw a photograph of myself confirming some of my worst body image suspicions: I'm pale. P-A-L-E. Pasty, white white. Where the sun don't shine is all over this body of mine.

Which normally, I'm totally fine with. I'm actually kind of a skin freak. As in, SPF 45 every morning, anti-wrinkle cream at night: my daily skin ritual since the ripe old age of 20. I wear caps to the beach and on long runs. I don't bask in the sun for long; I'm an explorer of the great indoors. The sun and I aren't on bad terms or anything, we just have a mutual understanding of one another.

But all that is about to change. Because this summer, I'm revising my relationship with the sun. It's time for us to take things to the next level. Get better acquainted with one another. Spend a little more quality time together, meanwhile still practicing our same old safety precautions (has anyone else seen the new SPF 100 out on the market?).

This relationship change is necessary for one main, horribly shallow reason: I will be dressed head-to-toe in ivory on October 30, and I don't want to be mistaken for a Halloween ghost. I want to look like a bride. A lady. A vision in white, not a vision of white. Which means for me, my friend, that I've got some hard-core pigmentation work to do.

So get over here, sun. Let's snuggle up. It's Memorial Weekend, and it's time we had a good, solid first date again, just you and me. See you Sunday at Barton Springs? I'll be dressed in my best suit.