Channeling my Inner Hawaiian Tropic Girl


Several months ago I wrote a blog called The Bikini Transformation. Here’s an excerpt:

In my heart, I’m a bikini girl. When I think of myself at the seashore, I’m always the Hawaiian Tropic model in the strings and seashells. Maybe not seashells, but you know what I’m talking about. In my fantasy, I’m lying on a towel soaking up the sun rays, spreading oil over toned muscle and beautifully bronzed skin. I play volleyball with my girlfriends and roll around getting dusted with sand.

Snap out of it. (Yeah, I’m talking to you!) Here’s the reality: I’ve had two kids and other than the occasional Mystic Tan, I’ve been “the white girl” all my life. I’ve got a decent figure, but I wouldn’t exactly describe it as toned and the only way I will ever be beautifully bronzed is if my freckles multiply and run together.

Fast forward to September.

With a complete mental breakdown ready to knock down my door any day, I decided to pack up my bags head to the sunny beaches of Florida with my friend Bridgett. She and I both deserved some serious R & R. The plan was simple: Corona, limes, sand and the sun. For one weekend, we were going to be completely selfish and satisfied and I was hell bent on looking good while doing it.

We all deserve to be just a little bit shallow from time to time, right?

I was determined to channel my inner Hawaiian Tropic girl, so I booked my first ever airbrush tan. Airbrush tanning is like “reality Photoshop”. The difference is that you have to do it with your arms up over your head, standing in front of a fan wearing only a hairnet.

The entire process took about a half an hour. The first fifteen minutes was spent in the (nearly) nude, arms out, and legs apart as an “artist” hosed me down with an ice cold mist that choked me like tear gas every time I attempted to breath. Wouldn’t you just love to have that girl’s job? I mean, that’s like right up there with being a bikini wax girl.

The second fifteen minutes was literally being “hung out to dry” in front of a fan. I couldn’t touch anything or look anywhere but straight ahead because OMG I could get creases! I quickly understood why the receptionist greeted me with a glass of champagne upon my arrival. Have you ever tried standing for 15 minutes with your arms out like you’re on a balance beam? I think I had a teacher in elementary school that would use that as punishment, but she may be in jail now (or should be if she’s not).

It’s a funny thing being one color when you wake up and a whole different color when you go to bed. And the tan would’ve been rockin’ if my feet didn’t look like this:

(No, those aren’t really MY feet, but they could’ve been.)

I solved the problem by just keeping my toes buried in the sand, which was part of the original plan anyway.

People can go to some crazy lengths to feel better in their own skin. For one day I got to be a slightly brassy Hawaiian Tropic bronze.

Anyone else out there made any desperate attempts at fleeting beauty? Any of them worth trying? I’m all ears! LOL


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