a walking freckle. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Because there is nothing wrong with that. What is wrong is the fact that I'm the poster child for wearing sunscreen and staying out of the sun's rays.
Blonde hair? Check.
Blue eyes? Double check.
Fair skin that freckles easily and a family history of cancer and melanoma? Pardon me while I check the living daylights out of this question.
Knowing that I'm already in danger of being harmed by the sun's rays has made me realize how important it is to stay out of the sun and to slather myself with sunscreen. I wasn't always this conscious, though. Not by a long shot.
In high school, I would frequent the local tanning salon and bake myself bi-weekly at 15 minute intervals. I did the same in college. I hit up the tanning bed and my backyard before my wedding day. No one likes a pasty bride in a white dress, right? Riiiight.
Despite my affinity for sun bathing, I always made my way to the dermatologist for my annual body check. Each freckle was observed and inspected and most of the time a few were removed for closer inspection. To date, I have had over 10 removed. Most left scars. I have the proof on my neck, arms, legs and back. I even had a large chunk removed on my back that required stitches. That was the last straw. Why would I continue to worry so much about the color of my skin when what I was doing caused myself to lose pieces of it?
Don't get me wrong, I think having a tan is nice and makes every outfit look better, but it's just not worth it anymore. I wear sunscreen on my face every single day without fail; it's just that important. If nothing else, I'd like to avoid looking like a hot wrinkly mess by age 35.
When I am in the sun, I wear rediculous things like hats and SPF 90. You know, the sunscreen that's made for people who happen to be vacationing on the surface of the sun for spring break. Partay!