THAT CUTE LITTLE WHITE SKIRT

We are now in the middle of the hottest, sunniest summer of all time.  Most people are wearing the least amount of clothing to cover their bodies in an effort to show off their fabulously tanned skin.  But my effort towards skimpy clothing is for temperature satisfaction only.  I am so white; Snow White is another one of my many twin sisters’. 

For years, I have been teased and ridiculed for my blinding white, skinny legs.  "Get out in the sun!"  is said with laughter and comical intent.  Try as I may, I don't tan.  I was born without the gene for a sexy tan.

I have to find other ways to be sexy. Like flashing a seductive smile at the boy who bags my groceries, tousling my thinning, limp hair for the guy at the bank.  Blame it on my Heinz 57 European ancestry; I am destined to be white.  Bright white! Go to an office supply store and check out the number 24 ream of bright white paper.  They got that color from me. 

As a result of my European heritage, almost every member of my family has had skin cancer.  This is not something you want to mess around with.  I stay out of the sun as much as possible.  I would rather have super bright white skin than surgery. 

Two years ago, I bought a very cute and extremely short white skirt.  The tags are still attached. If I wore it, it would be very difficult for others to see where the skirt ends and my legs begin.  I found the skirt the other day, hanging in my closet, quietly waiting for it's debut. 

"That's it!  I will be tan and cut the tags off that skirt no matter what I have to do!"  So I went to the store and bought all the self tanning products I could find.  I hadn't done this in the summers that have passed because I was against the idea of absorbing some unknown chemical into my skin for the sake of vanity.  But this year, I was pushed over the edge - by the tags on that white skirt.

Soon, I noticed how bronzy and sun kissed my legs appeared.  I was even wowed with my own legs for the first time in my life!  After a couple weeks, the WOW died out to a frizzle.  Streaks of yellow disguising themselves as liver failure covered my body.  All the products warned against that effect, but none could give me a quick remedy.  Now what do I do?  I wish    I could go back to the store for a refund.

My daughter takes the time and makes the effort to dust a glowing tanning powder on her face every day before she meets the world.  She is the only one in the family that inherited the tanning gene.  Her skin is naturally bronzed and flawless.  Personally, I think she is at her glory when she first awakes in the morning without makeup.  Her skin is so beautiful on its own.  Yet she feels compelled, like so many others, to step it up a notch.

Recently, I was talking to a friend of mine and his new wife from Thailand.  She confided in me that she envied my white skin.  What? Me??? She has the most youthful, color perfect, softest skin I have ever felt.  But she envied me -  Alabaster Queen!  I think I kissed her.  It made me wonder, "Why are we always looking for greener grass?"  Or more appropriately, someone else's skin?  We seem to want to be darker or lighter; repressing our heritage in favor of the culturally accepted color of the day. 

You may not know this, but during the Counter Reformation period (1600's) women who were overweight and pale were considered to be the most desirable mate.  It was believed that if they were chubby and pale, they had nothing better to do all day than sit around and eat.  Which meant they were wealthy and could afford to do so.  I'm ready for that trend to return!

No matter what we do, we are who we are. You can spend the time and expense on tanning booths for a quick fix without considering what the long term effects are to your youthful appearance.  You can test your bodies ability to absorb an unknown chemical applied to the skin.
Or.... You can accept your skin for what it is.  They say color is only skin deep.  Why aren't we happy just leaving it at that? 

The tags are still hanging from that cute little white skirt.  They will remain there, dangling quietly in my closet until I find the time to give it a new home - maybe a consignment shop. But it reminds every day to accept a part of myself that can't be masked or changed....  My legs are white and skinny, big deal. At least I have legs and they work just fine for me. 


Linda Schutz    July 20, 2006