3lastnamesblog

I’m Breaking Up with Spray Tans (Forever This Time) May 9, 2025

Filed under: aging,Humor,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 4:35 pm
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It’s come to my attention that May is Melanoma Awareness Month and being that I have been recently diagnosed with Melanoma (on my ear lobe), I thought it’s as good of a time as any to tell you about my recent spray tan experience. But before you go and get all worried, it’s stage 0 Melanoma “in situ” which means it’s non-invasive and unlikely to spread. I’ve chosen to wait till after my daughter’s wedding in June to have the surgery.

Hence, the spray tan. I was about to visit my daughter in Florida and for obvious reasons my days in the sun are over. I’ve used Jergens self-tanner here and there but I figured I should step it up a notch seeing as the Summer was coming and I was likely to be doing this with some regularity.

Now, I vaguely remember having a spray tan about a decade ago. The only thing I remember about it was that it left me emotionally scarred. Other than that, I’ve pretty much blocked the experience from my mind. But I do remember liking the tan. 

So I did some investigating and I found a young lady who rented space in a salon in Massapequa. She was highly rated. The website was impressive and she had all kinds of unlimited monthly plans which motivated me since this was going to be my new lifestyle. I imagined myself looking like I vacationed in the Caribbean. I booked the appointment on line for the day before my trip, sprang for the rapid tan, received a text confirmation, and crossed my fingers this time would be better.

I was a little nervous. I texted my daughter, “What do you wear for a spray tan?”

“Just a thong”, she replied.

It was all coming back to me now…

The day had arrived. I followed the long list of instructions leading up to the tanning- shower, exfoliate, no moisturizer, wear loose fitting clothes- the list goes on. I decided to wear a strapless bra and my normal underwear. I could’ve just worn my one-piece bathing suit (the only kind I own), but this was my version of being “daring”.

The girl was lovely. She asked me how tan I wanted to be on a scale from one to ten; a ten being like you just spent the summer in the South of France. I said “eight”.  

She then gave me a plastic cap to put on my head to cover my hair (think lunch lady) and told me to take off my clothes and place them on the chair. I was waiting for her to leave the room but it was soon apparent that I was going to be stripping down to my underwear in front of this young lady. She then had me step onto some type of flimsy paper covering for the soles of my feet and told me to walk over to the footprints on the floor and stand there. So try to imagine me in my underwear with a plastic cap on my head shuffling over to the footprints on the floor. Better yet, don’t. 

She instructed me to widen my stance and raise my arms like in an airport TSA scanner. I profusely apologized for the appalling sight standing in front of her and advised her not to look directly at me as it might burn her retinas. Then she told me to turn around. All I could think was “this poor girl”.

I somehow made it through, albeit I was not left with one shred of dignity. But I was TAN! She gave me a card with a long list of post-tanning instructions and I even bought the special soap that won’t wash off the tan and helps to maintain it longer. 

I followed the directions to a tee. The first step was to wait four hours then just rinse in the shower, warm water only, no soap. I set the timer on my phone like it was NASA counting down to a lift-off; T-minus four hours. My alarm went off and I sprang into action. I jumped into the shower, watched the excess tanning solution go down the drain, and hopped right out. I gently patted dry (no wiping as per the instructions). 

I looked in the mirror and the tan was GONE. A minute ago I was the Coppertone baby, now I’m Wednesday Addams. I remembered getting a text for the confirmation so I tried texting that number with my dilemma. She quickly responded, “No worries, it takes 24 hours to develop”. Ok, doesn’t sound like the “rapid” tan I paid for, but at this point I didn’t have much recourse. By this time tomorrow I’d be in Florida.

I finally arrived at my daughter’s and the first thing she said was, “I thought you were getting a spray tan?” Cue the Debbie Downer music- womp, womp. No tan ever developed, NOTHING, except of course on my stomach which hasn’t seen the light of day since my birth and never will. So yes, I’m officially done. Spray tans and I are parting ways, because in the end I’d rather be pale and proud than tanned and traumatized. 

Stay out of the sun, people.

 

The Unfriendly Skies May 31, 2012

Filed under: Humor,Women's Humor — 3lastnamesblog @ 2:17 am
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WARNING:  DO NOT FLY ON April 9!! I can predict with greater certainty than the Farmer’s Almanac that on that day there will be some type of major weather event or unnatural occurrence which will lead to unprecedented delays.  How do I know this? Because I’m flying on that day.

I think back to Christmas Eve 2010. As my daughters and I were enjoying our filet mignon and potatoes au gratin at my best friend Liz’s house, I had my eye on the Weather Channel app on my phone. For those who don’t know me, I am a weather junkie.  Nothing excites me more than tracking a line of thunderstorms on Doppler radar.  With my phone app, I can get my fix whenever I want.  But this time I wasn’t doing it for the sheer joy; there was talk of a blizzard arriving the day after Christmas- yes, the day my girls and I were supposed to fly to Florida. Santa wasn’t the only one up all night; Jim Cantore, (the Weather Channel anchor) and I were up all night too. Around 5:00AM I made the decision that we needed to get out of New York asap. I called Jet Blue and rescheduled our flight for just a few hours later.  That was the easy part. The hard part was dragging my daughters out of bed at the crack of dawn. I needed them to pack fast, and we needed to go!!  They tried to convince me it was sacrilegious to fly on Christmas. I reminded them we’re Jewish.

The next time I flew it was hurricane season.  Now being a weather fanatic, I particularly love hurricane season so I can watch the Tropical Updates at 10 minutes before the hour. I track hurricanes from the time they’re just a tropical wave off the coast of Africa. Hurricane Irene was no exception. The track was uncertain, but it seemed a pretty good bet it was going to make landfall in South Florida on the EXACT DAY Julie and I would be landing in West Palm Beach. But with hurricanes there’s always that cone of uncertainty, so like an obsessed lunatic I watched that station until I was convinced the hurricane was going to miss Florida. We were able to go. We got “lucky”.

It started as an ordinary flight.  The pilot explained the flight plan was altered slightly so we wouldn’t run into the hurricane and we should have a nice, easy, smooth flight. We were next for take-off. The plane was picking up speed when suddenly it came to an abrupt halt. “Ladies and gentleman, we are sorry for the inconvenience but JFK has been indefinitely closed” HUH??? Good thing Jet Blue has TV’s so we were able to see on CNN that there had been an earthquake in Washington DC.

I called my mother, “Ma, there was an earthquake.”

“OH MY GOD!!  OH MY GOD!! GO HOME !! DON’T COME!! GET OFF THE PLANE NOW AND GO HOME!!!”

“Ma, we weren’t IN the earthquake, we’re just delayed and I’m calling you because I don’t know how long we’re going to sit here. They’ve closed the airport”

“OH MY GOD!!! HOW’S JULIE?? IS SHE OK??”

Ma, Julie hasn’t looked up from her Sudoku book. She’s fine”

Then my phone lost the call. Not because of the service, but because the day before I dropped my brand new Blackberry in the toilet and was reduced to using an old phone which was only a notch above one by Fisher Price.

Anyway, we FINALLY got to Florida very late, and the next day I turned on the weather channel, curious as to where Irene was headed. Last I heard it was supposed to make landfall in the Carolinas, possibly veering off into the Atlantic. Well, that had all changed.  Now it appeared, the hurricane was headed straight toward Long Island. As a matter of fact, the eye looked like it was going to pass over the very block I lived on, which happens to be by the water and an evacuation zone. SHIT!

“Ma, Julie and I have to go home! I have to prepare my house for the hurricane!”

And back home we went.

I’m not through.  The next time I flew was the end of September. Gabby and I were going to visit my mother for the Jewish Holidays.  It was a beautiful, sunshiny day.  What could possibly go wrong? Let me make a long story short. There were severe thunderstorms surrounding us which were spawning tornados.  All the flight paths (“highways in the sky” as the pilot put it) were closed. I didn’t know they could close the air, but apparently they can. SIX HOUR DELAY!

So in the last three consecutive times I have flown, I encountered a blizzard, a hurricane, an earthquake and tornados. What are the chances of that?  I’m not sure, but if I were you, I’d stay home on April 9.

 

 

 

The Sweetest Place on Earth May 29, 2012

Filed under: Humor,Women's Humor — 3lastnamesblog @ 9:30 pm
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As Memorial Day weekend approaches, I think back to one of my most memorable. It was when Julie, Gabby and I went to Hershey Park.

Now for me, driving to Hershey Park was a journey. It entailed the Belt Parkway and a bridge. But the drive was part of the adventure and we were prepared. We had snacks, maps and Julie made a CD of songs we could all sing.

We decided to leave Friday night so we could go to the park first thing Saturday morning. We stopped for an early dinner to avoid traffic and by the Verrazano Bridge we were already hoarse from belting out songs. Happiness abounded.

I’m not exactly sure where we were, but suddenly something happened with Julie’s contact lens and apparently she was going to need a corneal transplant if I didn’t pull off the road so she could get her contact solution out of the trunk. So I quickly pulled off the next exit and surgery was averted. However, it was a lot easier to pull off the highway, then to get back on. I must give credit to Julie’s navigational skills, she managed to get us back where we belonged but this was not after a scene which resembled The Exorcist meets Fight Club.

At about 1:00AM my car finally rolled into the hotel parking lot. The three of us got out of the car drained, dazed and disheveled, but with a sense of pride that we actually made it.

We all got right into bed and drifted off to sleep immediately. However, I was awakened by what sounded like hogs with the flu. I quickly realized it was snoring, coming from both my daughters. They were like drunken truck drivers. I swear it was making my bed vibrate. I gazed over at them trying to take solace in their beautiful cherub faces fast asleep, but all I could think of was their poor husbands…

The next morning they woke up ready and raring to go. I was like a limp noodle, but that was ok because my only plan was to sit on a bench and drink coffee while they made a mad dash from roller coaster to roller coaster, each more death defying than the other.

The day had just begun. It was only the second roller coaster. I saw Julie and Gabby on the ride and we waved at each other. It was then I happened to run into my school’s PTA president. We engaged in quite a lengthy conversation and when it was over I looked for Gabby and Julie. They had to have been off the ride, because I waved to them at least 10 minutes ago. I couldn’t find them anywhere. I couldn’t call them because I was holding their cell phones. So there was nothing else I could do but sit on the bench and wait.  After about 20 minutes I started to get pissed. Those selfish bitches couldn’t wait for me? They had to run off to the next roller coaster without me? But I knew I couldn’t leave that spot because then they’d never find me. I waited another 20 minutes which felt like 2 hours. Now my anger was turning into fear. Where could they possibly be? My imagination was starting to run away with me. I waited another 20 minutes and now I was hysterical. My children were missing! In a panic, I asked a vendor if it was possible to have someone paged and he said no. So I found two security guards walking the grounds.

“MY CHILDREN ARE LOST!” I cried.

“Ok, Mam, stay calm. Where did you last see them?”

“ON THE RIDE!”

What are their names Mam?”

“JULIE AND GABBY. ONE IS WEARING A BLUE SHIRT AND THE OTHER WHITE…”

“And their ages, Mam?”

“TWENTY-TWO and FOURTEEN”, I sobbed!

Just as the guards gave me a look like I was nuts, I spied from the corner of my eye Gabby and Julie walking slowly toward me with a worried look on their face. Why in the world is Mommy talking to security? Did something happen?

Filled with relief, I ran over and gathered them in my arms. It turned out they had been waiting in line the whole time and had just gotten off the ride. I have no idea who I waved to, but apparently it was not my own children. I’m not sure who thought I was more crazy, the security guards or my own kids but for the rest of the day, every time I passed any security guards they looked at me kind of weird. I think word got out. “Crazy Lady walking!” as my daughters put it.

To get back at me, the girls made me go on a ride with them. It was a kiddies’ roller coaster with a mouse’s head on the front of each car, but don’t let that fool you. They didn’t call it “Wild Mouse” for nothing.

Sometimes a picture speaks a thousand words.