I’m pale. Ivory. Porcelain. Peaches and Cream. Whatever you like to label it, I’m just really, really pale. My skin can only be described as snow, dipped in paint primer, rolled in sugar, sprayed with dry shampoo, and wiped with diaper rash cream.
~With pink undertones.~
Every summer is consumed by my ardent attempts to transform into a bronzed goddess… by laying in the sun with 50 SPF slathered over my whole body. Can’t get burnt, ya know. Also don’t want skin cancer, none of that. This summer, I had tried everything, everything except a spray tan. I never had a prom, never participated in a beauty pageant, and just generally never had a ‘reason’ to get a spray tan. I couldn’t take it anymore.
On August 2nd, 2017, I, Jordan Carter, made the life changing decision to enter a tanning salon that I will keep anonymous due to the review I am about to give them.
I’m being dramatic, it was very underwhelming. Keep reading if you actually care to find out what happened.
I walked into the building fully exfoliated, with loose, dark clothing in hand. I nervously approached the counter where I was greeted by a girl who looked way too young to have the kind of spray tanning experience that a bod this white requires. She said, “So why are you getting a spray tan today?” I just looked at her and with no expression replied, “Um, for me.” All I was thinking was Uh, this girl doesn’t have any kind of spray tan on and she works here. She looks maybe 21. This could be bad. Okay, whatever, Imma be so brown.
She summoned me into my cell of sunless color and instructed me to strip and wipe off any makeup and deodorant. She stepped out and I followed her instructions. She came back about five minutes later and tried not to make things awkward as I stood on the little stage… naked. She instructs me to turn around and slightly bend over. (!!!) Don’t be weird Jo, just do it.
She attached a bottle of orange liquid to a massive hose and began spraying me with a mist so cold it felt like Satan sneezing on my skin. I was slightly shaking through the whole experience. As she’s spraying me, she informs me that she’s using the lightest coloring, but that there are two different undertones and she just had to take a wild guess. “If it’s the wrong undertone, you will be orange.” Thank you so very much for letting me know that now that my entire back side has been sprayed. She finished the spray and then hands me the hose.
“Here you go. You can turn the hose on here, just come out when you’re finished.”
I stared at the hose as she walked out and assumed that I was maybe supposed to spray down with the air hose. I did a light blast all over and then put on my clothes. I went out and paid the $44.99 and went home.
Hours later I was perfect. I had never looked so good. My family was raving.
I went from:
A nice improvement if I do say so myself! I didn’t shower that evening as instructed, and went to sleep. The next morning… well, the next day at 11:30AM when I woke up, I pulled the sheets down, dropped the ol’ jaw, and whispered into the air, I’m black. At least 8 shades darker than my natural color. With orange undertones might I add. My knuckles, knees, elbows, and feet were splotchy and dark. I looked like a different person. As I walked through my house I was welcomed by ghasps from each family member. I took a shower and watched brown fall off my body and into the drain. I scrubbed my toes until they literally bled. Ouch. Not much change!
The last week of my life has been spent trying to conceal all signs that my tan is fake, while also trying not to pull a Kylie Jenner and pretend the treatment is real. I’ve almost obnoxiously responded to every compliment with, “IT’S A SPRAY TAN BUT THANK YOU.” I cannot wait for it to be gone. It was nice for a day, but I absolutely hate feeling so fake. I hate being complimented for something sprayed on my skin for a lot of money. I hate not being recognized as Jordan. I’m like fake, orange Jordan. Who that.
This whole experience has shown me to accept my natural lack of glow. While I’ll probably still be frying away in hopes of color, at least I know that SHE USED THE WRONG UNDERTONE.
If you’re pale like me, save yourself the trouble and cash and don’t get a spray tan unless you’re willing to risk bad color, not shower, live in layers of lotion, have nasty looking toes and fingers, and buy new makeup to try and make your face match (I failed). Whiteness is pretty cool. I guess…