I’m Never Going to a Pool Again

A little over a week ago, my friend a great idea: hanging out at his apartment complex pool. It was an unusually hot Ohio day, all applicable open container laws were to be ignored, and there would be cute guys in bathing suits. As any single, red-blooded American girl would, I immediately asked what time I should arrive. I neglected to fully think the pool thing through, however. My horny, alchoholic (better?) half had shut off my brain.

Any pool situation has one inherent pitfall for women: the bathing suit. Duh. I think only 2.6% of the females out there don’t mind wearing them. That group is made up of 67+ year-old European women and anorexic girls with boob jobs. Oh, and women who will later appear airbrushed in all photographic evidence that they have ever actually donned a bathing suit. For every other woman, there is always a moment where a minor maiming is more appealing than a two-piece.

I’ve never claimed to be a skinny little thing. I openly admit that there are parts of me that jiggle in strange and unusual ways. I also have copious amounts of dimpled, cellulite ridden hinney flesh. Generally, I’m all right with the situation and take a “love me, love my thighs” approach to life. But I’m also a female and I’ve been socially constructed to absolutely detest jiggling, dimpled anything within 15 feet of a bathing suit. Thus, this pool thing was not altogether a happy situation. Still, I sucked it up. I was all about free beer, and I will take any chance to openly ogle hot semi-naked men in the middle of the day. If I had to wear a bathing suit to do it, then I would take one for the team, suit up, and jiggle with pride.

But there was another problem: I am only one step above albino. There have been very few times in my life when I’ve had tan lines, and they were all before I turned five. Since then, I’ve had multiple cases of sun poisoning and have come to accept mystic tanning as a fact of life. When going to the pool, sunshine is my mortal enemy and SPF 50 is my friend. But I only had SPF 15. Needless to say, the multiple slatherings of sunscreen in the hour or so that I was there only did so much. I still burnt. A lot. I was burnt on my ears, on my part, on the tops of my feet, on my back, on my front, on my face, on my legs, did I mention my back, on my arms, on my chest, on any and all parts of my body exposed to sun. Absolutely fried.

Recovering from sunburn is not a pleasant process. First, trying to put on a bra over any sunburnt area just plain old sucks. I think women should be exempt from wearing a bra if they have a sunburn, and by extension should not have to go to work because they will be bra-less. (It might help make up for the continued wage disparity and having to shave our legs) Trying to get aloe on the middle of my back by myself stunk, too. No matter what I did, what I tried, or how I contorted my arms, there was always that one place right in the middle that I could not reach. Consequently, I’ve come up with a new Get Rich Quick Scheme. I’m going to invent an aloe applicator on an extendable arm. That way, no matter where somebody burns, they can still aloe up. I think the nudist and redheads will be my target market. Anyway, my burn was so bad that I would actually take aloe breaks at work. It was me, the handicapped stall, and 15 minutes of attempted aloe application three or four times a day. But without question, the shower was the worst. I tried to minimize contact between damaged skin and water, but when EVERYTHING was burnt, there was only so much I could do. For three long days, I seriously debated how much maintaining good hygiene was worth.

Now I’m in the peeling (aka itch like a mo’fo) stage. I got up from the sofa this afternoon to a fine sprinkling of dead skin that had peeled and seeped out from the bottom of my shirt while I watched TV. It was like my back was a snow machine and I was supposed to cover the couch. My scalp was peeling so badly that I looked like I was in a Head & Shoulders “before” shot. And my lips just finished peeling. It’s all been very attractive, I’m sure. In the last few days, I’ve begun to have some insight into what the early stages of leprosy must be like. If this continues, I think the aloe applicator with extendable arm will have another optional attachment that helps peel skin…I’m gonna be rich!

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