I’m a try everything once sort of person. Yes this has had a few terrible downsides – potholing (not a fan of confined, dark, wet places it turns out. Not a good thing to discover half an hour into a tunnel under a mountain…), chicken sushi (enough said really but I didn’t get food poisoning), veal brains (horrid, plain horrid) – but in general means I’m willing to try most things with a bit of a kamikaze approach.
I’m a pasty type of person in a family of people who tan easily. I remember childhood holidays where the rest of the family would go beautifully brown whilst I may have a turned a shade off white.
A week ago I had my holiday rapidly approaching and I was decidedly pasty and had managed to accumulate a whole lot of bruises up my legs. Not an ideal look for a week where I’d be having to bare it all on the beach and walking around in shorts most of the time.
In a fit of something, probably delusion from too little sleep, I booked myself in for a spray tan to see if I could at least perk myself up a bit until the sun had had a chance to do its business and shift the colour of my body a bit.
I could blame Alice from More Than Toast who had done something similar before her break in the sun. Let’s be honest she looked fab after it, healthy and glowing rather than tango-ed. That was what I was looking for.
End result was I found myself standing in a tent wearing only a pair of (very small) paper panties throwing the sort of shapes I only make on the dancefloor after one too many lemon sherbets whilst a complete stranger sprayed brown liquid all over me.
To say it was a strange experience is to understate it a bit but I’m game for anything. Once.
Looking in the mirror afterwards I was a lot darker than I had gambled on.
The conclusion when I got home from Mr Muddling and our nanny was that it looked good – a decent colour and not too dark. It also didn’t smell as bad as the fake tan you apply yourself which was a definite plus.
By next morning (I’d showered it off before bed as per my instructions) it had developed – it was really even. I’ve never managed to tan my legs without getting streaks or funny bits on my feet that are a different colour from the rest. Colour-wise it was a bit darker than I’d gambled on but that may have been the surprise of seeing me with a tan given I’ve not been anything other than slightly off-white probably since we went on honeymoon 7 years ago.
Friday night Mr said it looked good, by Saturday morning it looked a bit less and looking in the mirror my face just looked like I’d had a few days in the sun and I was on the beach, in a bikini and it hid the goosebumps from a cold dip in the English Channel perfectly.
So would I do it again – yes but not often, its an awful hassle but its a lot better than what I can achieve. And the best thing is that a week on I’ve got a bit of natural colour, its faded naturally so I don’t think I ever looked like the vain middle-aged woman who had a fake tan before going on holiday. And that is a bit of a result.