Farmer’s Tan

It’s been 80 degree weather, and the sun’s been burning through the clouds like a mother. Thanks to the handy dandy track meet, during weather like this, and the awesomeness of t-shirts – I’m getting the best tan there is.

I’m getting Farmer-fied.

A parent volunteer in the school library asked me:

“Where did you go for spring break? Your so tan!”

After the first track meet? You’ve got to be kidding? The farmer tan is starting so soon. Steph said it looked like a bad make-up line. Like those girls that are pale and wear too much bronzer. Their collar bones are pale (like mine is), but their neck is nice golden-orange.

I told the parent volunteer that it was all from track. She was amazed.

I was horrified.

I went screaming into the closest bathroom, scrubbing at my face with paper towels. It wasn’t bronzer. I wish it was, because then I look like a tacky dad when I go to the beach. You know what I mean: they’re the men in blue swim trunks with that bunchy elastic waist that haven’t seen the light of day for four years, they’re pale and freckly, but alas, they have bronzed necks and bronzed forearms. They wear those bulky velcro black sandals. They have a hat on over their large glasses.

That’s going to be me. It’s time to go to Goodwill so I can find the perfect bathing suit to fit the look.

I need to find some bunchy