Thoughts on Self-Tanner and a Mother's Love

Mood: homesick, thankful

It's been a long time since I wrote a blog post. To be honest, I haven't really been writing at all unless I've been being paid for it and even that has been scarce. Recently, my head has been filled with so much noise that I haven't been able to form coherent enough thoughts for a blog post and I've been avoiding writing in a personal journal as well.

But, last night, after a day full of working on a website rewrite (yay being hired on this project again!) I sat down at the desk and I wrote two pages in a journal. I used to be able to fire off 10 pages or so, but I find that the act of procrastination has seriously stifled my ability to write as fast as I am able to think. Still, I sat down and I wrote. And I wrote another two pages this morning before beginning my work hours on the website rewrite once again.

After a few hours of actual work and writing, I decided I needed to shower. And while I was in the shower, I decided to really pamper myself and self-tan when I got out. Irish/Dutch skin does NOT tan ever on it's own and I'm not really a big fan of sunburns so I am not able to lay out in the sun or walk the neighborhood and look like I came back from a wonderful week in the Bahamas, unless I want to look like I came back a crispy lobster that is. Over the years, as I made peace with the fact that I do not tan (involving one reallllllly bad back and ass burn by a tanning bed when I was 18 and stupid) I looked to self-tanners to solve the problem. And I will NEVER forget my first venture. It was the summer of my ninth grade year of high school and my friends and I were going to Dorney Park (an amusement park in Allentown, PA...and I would do anything to spend a day there this summer!) the next day. Maybe some girls at that point had made peace with their "porcelain" complexion, but I saw my legs are more pasty than porcelain. So I picked up some Neutrogena (I honestly don't even know if St. Tropez existed then) sunless tanner at CVS and I slathered it on the night before our big day.

As a whole, I do not remember it being a seriously epic disaster, but I did have the tell-tale sign of self-tanning....orange stuck in between my fingers and darker palms. I figured nobody would care, my legs didn't look as ghostly anymore  and so, without crippling self doubt, I got in the car with my mom (the designated Dorney driver) to pick up my friends. When we arrived at Dorney, my mom got out of the car to see us off and remind us what time she'd be picking us up and where, at which point the girl I was with started pointing and loudly mocking my fingers and palms.

I don't to this day remember the words she said, but I do remember it hit me hard and I'm sure I teared up. Ninth grade Ashley, a lot like present day Ashley, would never fire an insult back. Rather, I would just fixate forever on what an ugly and terrible failure I was as a human being. Enter my mother. I only remember a portion of what my mother said ("hey, don't fuck with the eagles till you know how to fly") but I know it was a slightly cutting remark at the other girl's expense. Do I think it was compassionate to criticize a teenager as an adult? Nope. But I do remember thinking on that day, and still today as I slathered on Tarte's latest self-tanner, that one day I hoped to love my child so much that I would get emotional and step in to protect them, you know, within reason of course.

I may never have a biological child to protect with that fierce love, but I do feel that way about Malcolm. I would do damn near anything to keep that kid from ever feeling less than or ostracized. I would go to unimaginable lengths to keep a smile on his face instead of tears in his eyes.

There are factors out of my control at play when it comes to Malcolm, of course, but when I am with him I hope he sees just how truly he is loved. I hope that he feels my love for him radiate out of my words and actions, just as I did with my mother.

And, selfishly, I hope that he loves me just as much as my mother and is blind to tan stains or dark palms because years later, while a vast improvement has been made, I still have not perfected my damn self-tanning method.