FRECKLE OR FOE
BY CHARLI ROWE
NOW I AM not really one for sunbathing or even the sun, I have come to a mutual agreement with Helios that avoids me getting burnt, toasted, roasted, blistered, and red, with all complexions in between.
I envy those who have come to a more beneficial arrangement, golden brown sun kissed skin full of a healthy glow and complemented their white clothing – oh my jealousy!
With snow white skin and flame red hair I am a contradiction of hot and cold.
However I am not an enemy of the sun, I enjoy the heat even crave it, I am a creature of warmth seeking the comfort of a warm fire in the winter and reluctant to move from my covers to chill of the early morning.
I must explain that there is more to my relationship with the sun and despite seeking warmth, part of me longs to be out of the shade, a temptation in this dangerous love affair. My Freckles, my kisses from Sol luring and encouraging me to fight against the inevitable pain that exposure would bring.
To fry or not to fry? – that is the ultimate dilemma, is more noble to encourage the little brown inflections that cover my cheeks or to hide in the shadows and shade remaining pasty?
My journey with freckles has not been easy and at times felt like a curse. As a child, though my mother insisted they were beautiful, I disagreed backed with taunts from the playground.
Children are cruel but freckles were crueller, with names such as ‘ Spotty Lotty’ and offers to play dot to dot on my face, giving amusement to some but to me adding to the resentment of my genetic disposition.
THOUGH REASSURED BY my mother, whose mirror image of my own complexion, would tell me that jealousy fuelled their teasing, I was left unconvinced! Through the hardest years for any girl, my teens offered no relief or acceptance for my infliction, surrounded with media images of tanned goddesses presenting not a sunburn or freckle among them.
Alas, still not embarrassing my genetics, I discovered the valuable use of make-up in hiding my little friends which worked unless under UV lights or whilst it was raining. In my eagerness to look like the girls in magazines I stumbled across what could have been a solution and a possible salvation but a cheat all the same….
FAKE TAN, IN bottle or barrel, towelette or trowel, an art form of which I endeavoured to be an apprentice to. Now for beginners in this skill it is important to realise that any mistake made, in the application of tan, though not permanent will be seen for some time, so it is not an action to be taken lightly or in bathroom with pale décor, for though it may fade from your skin it will not from your walls.
Given a multitude of products and routes of application your first though must go to the shade of your desired tanningness, surprisingly orange has a wide range of names.
Certain application methods can prove cunning, a bronze that you add to your bath that can seem like a sure fire way to getting an even application but presents the problem of only tanning you up to the neck as on the instructions states you cannot use near your eyes, not to be read whilst sitting in the bath!
Lotions and potions can give you a gradually tan but have two major flaws orange hands through application and an orange build up on toes, ankles, elbows and knees even for the most expert self tanner.
PROFESSIONAL TANS THOUGH a little more expensive can prove the most tricky, the whole paper knickers affair can be degrading but the end result is by far the best, however for those who have never tried this method be warned the one down side is you cannot wash the mud like substance off for 16 hours which is ok unless like me it was raining on the way home ……
Firstly, to my then boyfriend I appeared looking like I had had a fight with a mud slide, with little rivers of white skin where the rain drops has caught me and secondly after the allotted 16 hours finding that the rain drop marks were permanent for the next 2 weeks!
Even after this I held out hope that I had just not found the right brand, after the loss of that boyfriend through embarrassment of a orange and white candy striped mad woman, I hit the most expensive tan I could find.
I covered myself head to toe in what would be my greatest tanning success but my arms were to short to reach may back leaving me basted on one side, obviously I didn’t want to look stupid ( for once ) and so called my next door neighbour for assistance. This, at the time, seemed a good idea,
I DID NOT THINK that me standing butt naked in my living room covered in tan with a white back strange though my neighbour did, strange enough that she took photo and stuck it on facebook – oh the shame. I must be given credit for my persistence in wanting to hide my freckles but by the time my exploits of tanning hit the internet I believed giving up was the next logical step.
No fake tans or taunts were going to change the fact that my freckles were permanent, any chance of trying to tan and they multiply as if to tease if you could go brown this is the colour you would be!’
So I have come to love them over time, my little kisses from the sun, the part of me that wants to be a sun goddess.
With my arsenal of sun protection creams they still come out despite, armed with my factor 50+, I can still continue my love affair, however turbulent with the sun.
But there is one hope still after all this time that has proved pivotal in my acceptance of ‘the freckles’, if I try hard enough and have patience, love every new freckle that blesses my skin, maybe just maybe they will all join up giving me the tan of my dreams!
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