Two weeks ago, I was in South Carolina for my niece's 1st birthday. HOLY CRAP SHE'S ONE THAT'S INSANE. Anyhow....the weather was weird, as it is this time of year below the Mason Dixon Line, and the day of sweet little Clara's party...
Ahhhhhhh!!! Cake!!
This one is just for good measure to show you "how big" Clara is now!!!
Ok, apologies. I really can't help myself. The pictures don't even do her justice. This kid is a little precious ham. Love her face.
Ok.....so anyhow, the day of her partay, it was GORGEOUS!!! And I wore a dress, which is a HUGE deal, as I don't generally do those types of things...
I have blog ADD right now....so sorry. Anyway, the dress is/was irrelevant, but I looked cute, so whatever.
I chose, on this day, to ignore my Irish/Swedish/French heritage, and try to defy the sun. I failed. I ended up rather pink red by the end of this shindig, and it was painful. My mom was scratching applying fresh aloe vera to my burns later that evening, when I was reminded of an awesome thing that happened to me when I was 13.
And by awesome, I mean awful. And by 13, I mean highly impressionable, very sensitive, teenager.
So, I used to be friends with this girl. We'll call her Apple. Yes, Apple. Mostly because she's NOT Gwyneth Paltrow's child, no one else would name their child that name, and also because the only person whose situations I'd like to exploit in this blog are mine (and sometimes my sister's, when appropriate).
Ok, so Apple and I used to be great friends, and spent a lot of time at each other's house. Like Monica and Rachel, but without all the super fun, quippy dialogue, and awesome 90's outfits.
Over the summer, before we started high school, Apple invited me to come along on a trip to Myrtle Beach with her mom and mom's friend. It was to be a super awesome friend bonding exciting outside sunshiney weekend. And I. Was. STOKED. I had never been to Myrtle, and was insanely excited to get back by the water where I felt at home (we had just moved back to South Carolina the summer prior to this one, from a small island in Georgia. I missed having sunkissed skin and Barbie blonde hair, but mostly I missed the freedom of the wide open ocean, the way the salt water mussed your hair up, and, quite obviously, dolphins - see previous posts if confused).
We did the little road trip and sang songs and woo hoo, windows down, chicks going to the beach.
SO EXCITED PEOPLE.
Two things that I've told you are of the UTMOST importance in this story:
- I moved from GA the previous summer. Sunkissed skin disappears and your hair turns that ugly brown/blonde it was before, and you turn into a pasty human again.
- I am of Irish/Swedish/French (also English and German, but they tan well, so whatever) descent. These genes have only gotten more intense as I've aged, and I'm sure I'm blinding people on the daily in LA with my translucent skin.
For those now confused, Irish/Swedish/French people don't tan very well. Somehow my sister got some gene that my dad has that allows them to tan beautifully. I, on the other hand, only had a brief and spectacular love affair with the perfect tan. Now I just have freckles. And when I get in the sun, I don't get tan, I get more freckles. It's precious.
Not.
Ok, back to Myrtle. We get to this little cute cabin/house/trailer thing we're staying in, and Apple and I take off to the beach. Our little weird sleeping quarters were just that, weird, but also, amazingly like 20 feet from the beach.
It's also important that you note that I like sunscreen. 70SPF, stuff you use for babies, sunscreen. It didn't take long for this bottle of Elmer's to understand that when I get burnt, it's awful and painful and sucks for so long, so I applied generously, and proceeded to swim. And swim. And swim. We must have spent at least 6 hours frolicking in oceanic glory before Apple's mom summoned us back to the weird quarters to shower and get ready for dinner.
We go to dinner, get back and are super tuckered, as we spent a LONG time in the sun, and as you know, that makes you sleepy. Lots of Vitamin D in exchange for your energy. The sun is a pseudo-generous Succubus (thank you, "Lost Girl", for that reference).
Ok, so please remember that I'm 13 at this time and 13 year olds are in constant battle with their faces. They are constantly doing things to attempt to avoid zits.
I am a smart 13 year old and have been around the block enough to know that while sunscreen is your BFF against skin cancer and all that jazz, it is NOT kind on your pores.
We're getting ready for bed, and I brush my teeth and wash my face. Apple and I get in bed and pass out in 2.4 seconds. What a good day.
The next morning, I awaken feeling....odd. My eyes are puffy and I feel REALLY thirsty.
- I am a walking allergy test. If i'm allergic to something, my body's initial response is to create a hive, or a series of, to alert me to stay away. Shortly after, my eyes are puffy and itchy and I need a Claritin or a Zyrtec, or worst case, a Benadryl and a nice long sleep.
- The sun also sucks all your hydration.
These numbers serve only to tell you that I wasn't THAT concerned about these facts. Until I went to rub my eyes.
I reached up, and suddenly was stricken with panic. I could feel weird bumps on my face. OH EM GEE GUYS I HAD A FACE FULL OF PIMPLES.
False.
Face full of pimples would have been a gift. No no. Apparently I wasn't that smart of a 13 year old because I didn't do the:
6 hours in the sun (sun burn) + face wash with salicylic acid =
BLISTERS EVERYWHERE ON YOUR FACE
math equation that I should have. It was awful. I ran to the bathroom and my face looked like a balloon covered in tiny clear grapes. It hurt so much and was so swollen. I started to cry - mistake. So painful.
Called mom. Freaking out. Can't complete sentences.
In bathroom. Crying. Whyisthishappeningtome?! Mylifeishorrible!
Finally, Apple wakes up. She is trying to calm me down, to no avail. My mom is trying to calm me down on the phone, but nothing is working. Apple's mom wakes up. Tries to calm me down. Doesn't work.
HOT. ASS. MESS.
Finally, I chill out. I put a cold wash cloth on my face and take some deep breaths. Eventually, the day begins. We eat breakfast. Yadda yadda.
I, apparently, have overestimated how awesome of a friend Apple really is, as she only had maybe 2 hours of sympathy for my plight. After that, she was BEGGING me to go back to the beach. I kept resisting, naturally, as I took a moment to do the math of this bubble face + more sun = ? Death? I'm not sure, but it could not be pretty.
Also, hat wearing was out of the question, as whatever brim existed would just rub on the forehead bubbles, making me miserable.
I'll just wrap this Apple vs. Candice argument up like this:
- Apple is being unsympathetic.
- Candice urges her to go to beach with her mom.
- Apple says that is dumb, Candice should go with.
- Candice pleads. She will stay and read. It will be fun.
- Apple wins. Candice goes to beach.
This ends even worse, because I was really feeling strongly that sitting on the beach in the sun would leave me with the same result that would have happened if Katniss had run INTO the cornucopia instead of away from it. So I went swimming. I cried my little salty tears into the ocean, and prayed that the dolphins would fix my face. Ok, I didn't. I actually prayed that God would fix it because OMG I WOULD HAVE TAKEN PIMPLES. SRSLY.
Great news. Swimming, also not a great idea. Avoiding UVA/UVB and salt water would have been the winner in this competition.
The muddled, nonsensical, pathetic details of the next day or two - yes, I spent more time crying into the ocean, courtesy of Apple's beach-time insistence - don't matter. What matters is this.
By the time we left Myrtle Beach (THANK YOU BABY JESUS IN A TUXEDO SHIRT IT'S OVER), my face looked like one giant scab. Imagine that guy from "Hannibal". What was his name? Mason Verger. Yes. Post Hannibal eating his face off. Delete the fact that I actually didn't have my lips eaten, my eyes were still very much intact, and the general creepiness of the idea that Verger's face was EATEN OFF, and that was me.
Hold please. That was quite possibly the most ridiculous hyperbole I've ever used in my life. My face wasn't that bad, just really really really scabby. I just feel this embarrassing event is WAY better if I dramatically over exaggerate the happenings.
Ok, let's wrap this business up. We stopped at a MALL on the way back. Which, when you're 13 is the BEST THING EVER, unless you look like you're slowly morphing into The Fly, then it is quite possibly the worst thing that could happen to you.
Small children were pointing and staring, and I made a serious decision that me and Apple's friendship needed to abruptly end. I then reconsidered, until I had to go to the dentist the day after I returned from the most awesome horrifying trip of my life and couldn't open my mouth wide enough for the hygienist to do her job without flaking half my scab-face off.
The dentist is miserable enough. Your face flaking off with each tooth scrape? Apple, we're done.
So folks, the next time you decide to max out your Vitamin D exposure for the day, do yourself the favor of reading all the ingredients in whatever you're going to put on your skin. And if you find yourself questioning whether one of the ingredients might put a hurting on you, remember this:
(certain) face wash + sunburn = Mason Verger.
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