There, I said it.
I've never in my life had a real tan. Never. I've tried. I've slathered, baked, broiled and fried myself to try to get a tan. When I was young and a dark, "healthy" tan was requisite, I'd lay out in the yard for hours literally *working* on a tan.
But I'm very fair skinned. Not quite "ginger", but light enough that if my freckles were close enough to touch, I woulda been the envy of my senior class.
You have no idea how happy I am that THOSE days are effectively over. Having milky-white skin isn't that bad, really. But old habits die hard.
Since I was always working to get some color, I tended also to forget about wearing sunscreen for myself. I was diligent enough with my kids, but never so much for myself. This came back to bite me on the ass one formal night on our last cruise.
It was a 15 day-er, so we had two formal nights. Looking at photos of that cruise, you'd see the first one at the very beginning of the cruise and the second formal night near the end are like looking at black and white vs. color TV. That first formal night my complexion was pale, but I looked OK all things considered and all. I mean, c'mon, I'm no great beauty or anything and I take crap pictures as a rule, so we're not exactly talking Kate Moss, but for a housewife, I was passable.
The second formal night, however, things were quite different. We had ported the day before and when we returned from our excursion and sat around for a bit, my sunburn started to emerge. By that night, my face was swollen and I was miserable. The next day I was a walking exhibition on the ship. I could see from the corner of my eye as people literally turned their heads and whispered. It was terrible.
I mean I had the injury. That much was clear. Anyone who could decipher the color red SAW the injury. But the insult was two-fold, the first being the obvious shock of those around me. The second was far-far worse. It was the insult of knowing that had I just had been a complete idiot. Don't be an idiot, wear sunblock.