So here’s the deal: I hate the sun.
Yes, I realize it is what sustains life on this planet. I don’t care. I fucking hate it.
It’s only fair that I explain to you why, so here goes nothin’.
Does anyone recall a few weeks ago when I got my thigh sucked on by a tick? Such a lovely experience that was. Regardless of all my research that told me the bite was no biggie and I wouldn’t end up with some blood-born pathogen that melted out my eyeballs, the bite area started to look funky. And I don’t mean funky like disco ball or oozing puss or anything, but funky as in “do I really trust that my husband identified the tick correctly and that i’m not going to die?”
The answer to that question was a resounding NO. Well, actually, to be totally honest- I was pretty sure it was fine, but just to make damn sure (we all know how my luck tends to sway)- I went to the doctor. I fucking hate doctors.
He too was pretty sure the bite was fine, y’know, because I wasn’t speaking in tongues or bleeding from my rectum- but just as a precaution, he stuck me with a tetanus shot (gee, thanks) and a high dose of antibiotics. Yay me!
I’m no super genius, but when i’m given some funky new medication, I like to read the instructions and the warnings and even the side effects (although i’m sure that reading them is what convinces my body to HAVE them, but I digress) so that when I DO start bleeding from my rectum, I know who to blame
The side effect of this little pink gem that I was to be on for 21 days?
DO NOT GO IN THE SUN
STAY THE FUCK OUT OF THE SUN
YOU WILL BURN WORSE THAN A GINGER SLATHERED IN TANNING OILS ON THE FOURTH OF JULY AT AN ALL DAY COOKOUT.
My first reaction was: WEIRD
My second reaction was: Yeah fucking right!
I have two little kids. Two little BOYS. Two little boys that just so happen to like the outdoors, mud, dirt, throwing mud and dirt, running in circles like idiots, and all other kinds of outsidey crap that kids like. Oh, and they’re too young to just be shoving their asses out the door alone, so they kind of have to be supervised. By me. This means I have to go outside. They would quite literally KILL ME if I kept them indoors for 21 days straight. Or i’d kill myself. By implosion.
Kiss my ass, side-effects!
And for the first week, the rebellious attitude (yes, because ignoring a friggin’ side effect makes me one. I’ll take what I can get these days) worked for me. She who already burns easily didn’t burn at all. Ha-HA bottle-o-pills! You don’t own me!
We all know what happens when one gets over-confident, don’t we? Yeah, they get fucked.
Bring on YESTERDAY. Day at Busch Gardens. This is not abnormal in and of itself, as we go all the time, but how I FELT.. well.. that was fucking abnormal as shit. Ok, shit isn’t abnormal either. IT WAS WEIRD, OK?
Every time the sun TOUCHED the skin on my feet, it felt like they were on fire. Literally. Literally on fire. Burning. Stabbing. Thousands of tiny little knives.
Being that I have lily white skin that can burn with spf 5,000 on, I bathe myself in sunscreen. I am religious about sunscreen. So I knew (or thought I knew) that I wasn’t actually burning. My skin wasn’t even hot to the touch; but as the day worse on, my stabby little toes started to look like vienna sausages and the burning knifey feeling spread to my arms.
WHAT THE FUCK?
It got so bad that I was like friggin’ Nosferatu, any time the sun would so much as touch my skin I would recoil into the shadows. Yeah, I said Nosferatu. I do not glitter. Though it would be better than the burny burn.
And then I noticed my left arm starting to rash up. From there it was just downhill. I tried to avoid the sun, but all the jumping into peoples shadows and cowering was starting to garner me funny looks.
I’m the type of person that would love to stay at an amusement park from open to close if I could- but I was DAMN happy to leave, aka, get the fuck away from the sun. That bitch.
So you ask why I hate the sun- well, it’s because by that evening my arms, chest, back, feet, thighs, were COVERED in what I can only categorize as a heat rash sunburn hybrid caused by the sun that hurt in ways I simply cannot describe without being reported to the language police (ie: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK)
It’s been a lifelong battle, the sun vs. me, like she thinks I stole her boyfriend or told everyone that she has a wideset vagina.
Yeah well, if the tampon fits.
So now I look like the idiot tourist with the fanny pack and the gajillionty random burn lines (NOT tan lines) from who the fuck knows what, who thought I was too good for sunblock and got burned ALL OVER to a lovely shade of Lobster (y’know, except that I look like a fucking leper since mine is mixed with rash)
We have all seen the type. We all giggle at them.
Thanks a lot, floppy vag.
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