Tan and Fab or Spotty and Drab?

So here’s the thing — I look better with a tan.

I know it’s bad for me. I know the reason I have those splotches on my face is because I spent too much time in the sun as a kid. And I know I could get skin cancer. So I put sunscreen on every day. Even when it’s cloudy. Even in winter. Cross my heart and hope to get crows feet. Really, I do.

But it’s summer, and I’m in the Hamptons, and even with sunscreen, I’m getting a tan.

When I’m tan, that little bitty age-spot under my eye becomes invisible. With a tan, it looks like my arms are way more cut than they are. (Which isn’t hard, they aren’t exactly cut.) With a tan, my eyes look bluer, my skin appears more even, I lose that ooblek colored dead-of-winter hue I acquire each year.

I’ve tried self-tanners. Usually, I end up looking like an oompa-loompa. (Nivea was OK, but still not as flattering as the real thing.) I’ve tried bronzers ( I like Bare Escentuals “warmth”)– but when I attempt to avoid the “face one color neck another” effect, I end up having to bronze myself all the way down to my navel. I mean, how can you stop applying bronzer when you’re trying to avoid having a line of demarcation between made-up and not? Anywhere you stop you’ll get a line….right? (There are, it seems, actual rules about how to do this properly – even an entire website devoted to it.  Who knew?)

I’m not tanning. It’s just that I’ve been plodding (I’d call it jogging, but I’m not going fast enough to call it that) to Cooper’s Beach a few times a week. I’ve been gardening. (Our vegetable garden is really doing well this year.) I’ve been taking walks and bike rides with the kids. And I’ve done all of it wearing sunscreen and/or a hat. And still, I’m getting tan.

I kinda like it.

I know once the fall comes and my tan fades, I’ll see those age-spots again. Maybe even some new ones. But until then, I’m enjoying living in the long ago land of even skin-tone and bright blue eyes. I’m taking all the precautions, I’m sunning responsibly.

And if none of that works, I’ve already started shopping for skin lighteners I might try this Fall.

A Wrinkle in Mine

When my daughter was three, she came up to me on the beach one day and said:

“Mommy, why are your legs so big?”

Ahh…the innocence of youth. No judgements, no critique, just a question. Plain and simple.

Now, my daughter is eight. And just yesterday she said to me:

“Mommy, what are those lines on your face?”

Yikes. I like to think of myself as not all that wrinkled. It’s pretty much the only benefit of having had oily, acne prone skin all my life: I haven’t yet shriveled up like my smooth ivory skinned childhood friends. But now, out of the mouths of babe…Maybe I have more lines than I thought.

I’ve been using Glycolic Acid pads — kinda like Stridex for the post-forty set — for quite some time. And I do think it’s made a difference. But all those creams???? Is one really different than another?

I mean some of these ingredients…olive oil. Should I just stick a pizza on my face? Fruit acids. Maybe I should go Californian and top the pizza facial with pineapple. Pomegranate, copper, Sugar Cane. Maple Sugar. peptides. Who knows what really works? Sometimes I think I should just toss a salad and stick my face in it. Oh wait – I did that today at lunch.

Looking Good at Any Price

Have you ever noticed that the worse your body is, the more you have to spend on a bathing suit?

I’ve been to the Lands End site with all of it’s symbols about body type and claims of flattery. And I’ve always liked the suits. Not too flashy. Not too revealing. But in the end, not too exciting, either. They’re all fine in a “I’m a middle aged woman who drives a minivan, has a bad perm, and still uses cans of Cream of Mushroom soup to make a casserole” kind of way. But chic they’re not.

This year, I decided to actually go to a store and try on bathing suits. No easy task. Like most women over forty who’ve borne children, trying on bathing suits is as depressing as it gets. What I didn’t realize is how expensive it can get!

The average price of a bathing suit at my local (and totally fabulous) lingerie store, The Town Shop, is $150. Seriously. They have a few bathing suits under $100, but most fall into the $125-$225 range. Shocking. I must be naive, but I had no idea a little piece of Lycra could cost so much.

But I had decided that, like a good haircut, a good bathing suit can change everything. So I sucked it up (and sucked it in) and tried one on. I don’t know who this Karla Colletto is, but man, can she design a bathing suit. I’ve tried the Miracle Suit thing, and quite frankly, the only miracle is that they can get away with their copywrited claim that you’ll look ten pounds lighter in ten seconds. They’re relatively flattering, but they ain’t no Karla Colletto. In her suits I looked – are you ready for this? — GOOD! Do you understand the magnitude of that? I LOOKED GOOD IN A BATHING SUIT. Talk about shocking.

I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the cut, maybe it’s the fabric. But I don’t care what it is. It was worth the staggeringly high –wait for it…$225 — price tag.

I decided to see if my “the worse you look the more you have to spend” theory applied to exercise clothing as well. Usually, I head to Filenes or Target and buy my exercise clothing there. After all, why spend big bucks on something you’re just going to sweat up anyway?

How wrong I was. I have only one thing to say to you: Lululemon. These pants are amazing. Their seam runs down the back of the leg, instead of the sides, making your legs look longer. The waist band hits at exactly the right spot to avoid side-bulge, and minimize butt bulge.

In my Lululemon signature pants I really do look ten pounds lighter. Unfortunately, they also left my wallet nearly $100 lighter. A small price to pay for a small butt.

So alas, it’s true. The worse you look, the more you pay. But the bright side is, if you’re willing to spend the big bucks, you can look like a million bucks. Or, OK, $100,000 bucks. But that’s rich enough for me.