Tanning, 101.

So I went tanning a couple of days ago for the first time since, oh, maybe ten, possibly fifteen years ago. (It's shocking to me that I can even use the phrase ten or fifteen years ago, but I'll get into that a little later).
I learned that tanning has become big business, and gone are the days of five dollars for twenty minutes under the blue bulbs.
I needed a tan quickly so I went with the Platinum Bed, with supposedly bulbs so powerful they penetrate the fourth layer of my skin, guaranteeing a deep dark tan with bonus skin cancer at no extra charge. (I learned this in one of my classes at UNR. A girl student did a whole research project on it and I specifically remember her talking about the light "penetrating" the fourth layer, and how it changes your cells, or something, and that for sure it will give you cancer. I couldn't stop thinking about this the entire twelve minutes I was laying in the bed. I'm sure thinking about the lights only cause the cancer to grow more quickly, at least if you are the type of person that believes in the power of ones' thoughts), Ironically, this "fourth layer" bed was the most expensive, and the chic behind the counter was selling it like it was a Mercedes.
Before making my choice, the chic (who could have been anywhere between the age of twelve and twenty three) tried to sell me every tanning package imaginable, including lotions and potions guaranteed to make me look as luscious and dark as she was. She even used herself as an example of what certain beds and lotions combined were capable of. I was almost buying into her whole deal (for a fourteen year old she was a cut throat sales person), until she said she would sell me her "special" : fourteen days of unlimited tanning in the most powerful beds.
"It's a really good deal. You can come fourteen times in two weeks. Just stop by everyday..." And that's when she lost me. I shook my head out of tan world and took a breath and remembered my life and what it took in order for me to come ONE day. One day. For twelve minutes.
But let me rewind.
I decided that what I really wanted for Christmas was to enjoy one night out with my husband. I mean really enjoy it. So that's where the tanning and nails and shoes all came in. But in order to get to these appointments, I need someone to watch my boys. So I planned this tanning trip like three weeks ago. At the last minute, Joey had a meeting come up, so it was almost lost, until at the very truly last minute, they rescheduled it. Tanning salvaged. But I knew there would be no way on this beautiful green earth I was going to get back there more than maybe two times, if I was lucky.
So I opted out of the fourteen tans, and stuck with three and a five dollar packet of goo that did nothing for me except make me smell like flowery barf. But like I said, she was a really good sales woman/girl.
Before I went back into my little room I told her I just had some piercings done and would it still be alright to tan. She said yes even though she had no idea what she was talking about and then at the word "piercing" she just lit up like a little Christmas tree. I could see she had her nose and her lip pierced, but she went on to ask me what I got, and when I told her she almost started squealing. It was like someone had just loaded her up on tequila for the first time. We become instant bff's. She then proceeded to show me all of her tattoos, including the mustache on the inside of her pointer finger that her and her real best friend got as a joke--and to tell you the truth it did make me smile when she held it up over her lip-- and to talk about her belly piercing and how she wants to pierce her hips (I tried to not look surprised here, like old people do when young people say crazy things that they've never heard of, but I don't think I succeeded). Then she went on to ask if I was going to the Santa Crawl.
"Santa what?"
I had no idea what she was talking about but quickly started nodding my head like I did. And I felt a little relieved that I at least looked like a person who would go bar hopping all dressed up like a cute little Santa girl, even if that is the farthest thing from my current life.
When she customarily asked if I needed help to know how to use the bed and I said "yes", she looked like someone had just dropped their pants in front of her.
"You've never been tanning before?"
"No," I lied. I thought it was a better answer than bringing up the last time I went tanning was probably twelve years ago, when I was her age, and that I was also a little scared of the beds. She seemed to think we were sort of the same and I thought it was OK to leave it like that; live in that little fantasy land for a minute or two of a life filled with nights out on the town and tanning every day, just because I wanted to.
On the way home I called my husband and could hear my boys in the background, and I felt tired despite my afternoon away, to myself. It is exhausting to stay pretty. I missed my boys and my husband, and taking an afternoon for myself, though needed, also took away precious time with all of us together, and suddenly I had this huge desire to be home.