During the winter, you basically didn’t see your legs. You forgot just how pale they are, and the sight of them will continue to startle you until at least mid-June.
You have a drawer full of self-tanning products as a result of overly hopeful yet ultimately failed attempts at being a normal color.
You spend a significant portion of your time standing around naked waiting for your self-tanner to dry.
You practically glow in the dark.
Trying on bikinis is a whole different level of hell under the unforgiving florescent lights that make you look like you’ve just come off a month-long bender.
You have to wear SPF 80 sunscreen. Otherwise, you will burn to a crisp.
Tan person: “Why don’t you try a lower SPF? Maybe you’ll actually tan!”
You: “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND.”
Your friend’s tanning oil smells like coconuts. Your sunscreen smells like ointment.
You don’t get that “I’ve just spent a day at the beach!” sun-kissed look–unless you forgot your sunscreen, in which case it’s more of a lobster look.
You wear your Derby or Carolina Cup hat on the beach.
Freckles.
“Oh, my God, I can see your veins!”
You won’t have wrinkles or skin cancer like your tanning bed-obsessed peers.
But at the moment, they look damn good and you look like Casper.
Trying to get a tan is pretty much pointless.
When you do go to the pool or the beach just to be with your friends, you constantly move to stay in the shade.
You’re incredibly grateful for Instagram filters.
You’re pretty much the same color as the sand at the beach.
Bronzer can be a friend–or a vicious, cruel foe.
At the end of the summer, when your friends are complaining because their tans are fading, you’re all good because nothing ever changed all that much for you to begin with.
You’ve paid upwards of $30 to strip down and have your body spray painted by a stranger, and it only lasts a week. AKA: spray tans.
When you do have a good spray tan, you feel like a glowing sun goddess for a few short days.
When you have a bad spray tan, it’s really bad. Like, “Did she roll around in a bathtub full of Cheetos?” bad.
“Are you sick?”
Flash photography is not your friend.
Some girls look super chic in all black, but you look like the kids who used Xanga in 2001.
You can’t pretend your spray tan is natural. People know that glow is fake, considering that the other 356 days of the year you’re basically the color of printer paper.
Your skin tone wasn’t represented among the Disney princesses until Elsa came along.
Your spirit animal is the beluga whale.
There are more colors that wash you out than colors that don’t.
Tan fat looks better than pale fat.
You can’t look flawless without makeup like the tan girls can in the summer.
White clothing is almost painful.
Unlike Amanda Bynes in “She’s The Man,” you really are allergic to the sun.
Fashion magazines validate you because the models are super pale, too.
You buy the palest foundation and it’s still darker than your skin.
“I’m so jealous of your pasty skin tone!” said no one ever.
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