Confessions of an easily-sunburned college girl

Spring Break has its dark sides — pun intended

Having milk skin — as I call it — is a real bummer.

I have put together a list off the top of my head of things cuter than my peeling, post-Florida skin:

  • Bug guts on a windshield
  • Sparse dead grass
  • The smell of the DUC like two years ago
  • Cellulite arms
  • Squished crumbs grinded into the carpet
  • Squelchy farts
  • When you blow your nose and it goes on your face instead of the tissue
  • The smell of dirty dishes
  • Disembodied toenails
  • When you burp and it tastes like meat

The ability to acquire a sunburn like the one shown above (or, God forbid, the one shown below) would be considered a curse by most, but there are a few perks. It’s like being a lightweight, but for tanning. My sun exposure to skin reaction ratio is nearly one to one.  If I were to go tanning — I mean this hypothetically, since given family history it would be bizarre if I didn’t get skin cancer — I’d only have to pay for about six minutes. It’s very cost effective.

However, this level of tomato requires a specific skill set in order to power through.

First, you need a large supply of baggy — preferably ugly — garments on hand, so as not to irritate your already enraged skin.

Next, you must have absolutely no qualms about asking people to assist you in the process of spreading aloe vera over every surface of your body. Ask anyone available, even strangers. Be shameless.

Finally, you need friends who still accept you when your face skips over the peeling stage and hardens into a lizardy, leathery substance that doesn’t move when you talk. Yes, these are the same friends who also jump at the opportunity to take photographs of you at max tomato. (See below.)

SPF? More like SP-EFFF this!

After a long, sweaty car ride with my best friends who also attend my esteemed private university, I feel like it is not too much to ask for a week-long trip to Florida at minimal cost to myself and enjoy the beaches without extreme personal discomfort. I just wanted to bask in the glow of whiteness (I’m obviously talking about the sun and sand).

What I wouldn’t give for darker, sexy skin and all the privileges that go with it!  I would never have to worry about this crap.  I do not at all recognize the value or significance of being able to turn on the television and see my race widely and positively represented, inspire zero police suspicion based on my appearance, or blow off my interview next week without it being viewed as a reflection on my race.

No one understands how difficult it is to be white, blonde, and upper-middle class these days.

Washington University in St Louis