Fake n Bake - Day 18 of 35 days to 35

`I love the sun. It's one of my favorite things. And even though I am a true Alaska girl and detest weather above 85 degrees, I am a sun worshiper. It is not uncommon to see me poolside (never IN the pool, of course) as soon as the pool opens. I love the way it feels on my skin and just soaking up the rays is like happiness by osmosis. Contrary to popular belief, black people do "tan", or shall I say, get darker. Now most of us do not typically choose to lay out and bake in the sun, but I have never been typical. This is one of the things I love about the sun. I am fond of saying that normally I am Snickers colored but after a few days in the sun, I am a Milky Way Dark. I don't have to wear makeup because my complexion is finally even and I become a wash and go kind of girl. And, simply, it makes me feel good. I realize this puts me in the minority and am not immune to the stares I often get, from white and black people alike, when I prance my happy ass to the pool with my beach towel and book and NO intention of swimming. This has never bothered me. I will gladly lay there amongst the questioning eyes and let sun go to work on me. I always hate to see myself fade back to Snickers as the leaves change to fall, but I just accepted it as part of life. I never, and I mean never, considered that there was a way to keep Milky Way Dark Darlene alive all year round. It's called a tanning bed.



Now I know this may seem very obvious to most, but fake tanning was always only something that white people did. I can only imagine the looks of confused amusement if I walked into a tanning salon asking for my dose of winter sun. I am certain the thoughts would be something along the lines of, "Does she not realize she already has a tan?" So augmenting my winter color had never been an option for me. It seemed silly, stupid really. Getting dark in real sun was one thing, but paying to get darker? That seems to scream identity crisis!


Needless to say, this HAD to make the list. Not only was I terribly curious about the whole experience, I was DYING to see the looks on people's faces! My first challenge is that I'm not exactly sure where to go. Of course I had seen tanning places all over the city, but never paid attention to them since I never thought I'd need to know where one was. Plus, I wasn't exactly sure what to do when I got there. Were there different types of tans? Do I use tanning lotion? Do I take all my clothes off or bring a swimsuit or  just wear my underwear? I am a little too embarrassed to ask anyone these questions so I figure I will just wing it.


I get in the car and decide I will just head up Beechmont Avenue. You can find ANYTHING on this street so I am bound to run into a tanning salon sooner or later. Turns out to be sooner. I turn onto Beechmont and almost immediately see a sign for Cincinnati Tan Company. I park and as I trudge through the rain, it occurs to me that this is a perfect day for a tan. It is gloomy and ugly and cold...a nice blast of manufactured sun seems to be just what the doctor ordered. As I approach the door, I find myself hoping there are no other customers in the salon. I don't know why I am concerned about what strangers may think of this anything but pale girl going to a tanning salon, but the thought of someone seeing me makes me walk a little faster. I am greeted by three smiling 20 somethings at the front desk who, to my complete and utter surprise, act as if it is every day that they see a black woman walking in asking for a tan. I was prepared for at least a flash of confusion, amusement, something, but all I got was Angie saying "Hi!! Welcome to Cincinnati Tan. What's your name? We'll get you all checked in." It was then I realized, as I am watching her poised at the computer, that she thinks I am a repeat customer. She is not the least bit shocked to see me (or she is hiding it really well!), in fact she thinks I have a membership here or something! Did I miss the memo that it is normal for black people to go tanning?


"Um, this is my first time here" I stammer stupidly.


She takes my ID and enters me into the system then presents me with their menu of services. Apparently there are different levels of beds to choose from: silver, gold, platinum and diamond. I am dying to ask what the difference is but don't want to appear completely clueless so I just nod as she explains the different packages. I could have stopped her immediately and assured her that I would not be needing the unlimited package as this was a onetime deal, but I let her go through the whole shpeel. I wasn't really listening anyway. I am trying to take in the place but my eyes are transfixed on the wall of tanning lotions behind the desk. Holy crap! Is there really a need for all of those different types?


Uh oh, now she's asking me what bed I want, how long I want to stay in it and if I need lotion. How the hell do I know? I feel like a third grader in an algebra class. I recognize things but it is not making sense to me and I don't even know where to start with my questions. I choose the platinum bed figuring that I didn't want to get the cheapest one (it's the cheapest for a reason, right?) but I wasn't ready to go all the way to the diamond bed right out of the gate. Angie tells me that they have just changed the bulbs in the platinum bed so I will really get my money's worth. Oh goody. I can't even begin to guess how long I am supposed to stay in this thing so I ask what she recommends and we settle on ten minutes. I get some shea butter lotion because she said it wouldn't make me smell like I had just been tanning. Um, exactly what does that smell like?? No clue.


She leads me back to my room and explains how the bed works. It reminds me of a coffin and this makes me giggle; a coffin with hot- ass lights, music and fans that blow on you so you don't sweat to death. This is so weird! Alone with just me, the bed and some funny looking goggles, I am not really sure what to do next. I start to undress and realize that I am not sure what the protocol is. I am definitely not asking Angie what to do. I figure that when I am at the pool I am in a bikini so I opt to keep my bra and panties on. I lie on the bed and pull the top down. Wow, that's close! I push the start button, put my little eye thingys on and immediately feel the heat from the lamps. It doesn't feel exactly like being at the pool but it is nice. I close my eyes and start to relax into the warmth...wait, do I smell something? Is that flesh burning?  I could swear it smells like I am cooking myself in this thing! I have to be imagining this. I close my eyes again and decide to pretend I am on a beach....beautiful sand, fruity vodka-filled drink, I can almost hear the waves.....


That was the fastest ten minutes of my life! I was fully engaged in my beach fantasy, smelling the sea air and everything, when I am dragged back to reality by the fading of the lamps. That felt good. Really good. I can see how that might be a little addicting.


As I am getting dressed I catch a glimpse of my face, and I look like I really was on the beach! Okay, I get it now.


I walk out of Cincinnati Tan feeling a little peppier, a little lighter (well darker but you know what I mean). I can cross this off my list now, and though I am not sure I will do it again, I am grateful for my dose of fake sunshine on this ugly January day.