A window into the life of a professional geek, wife and mother (and nonni), stitcher/designer, bibliophile, old-school gamer, and whatever other roles she finds herself in.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Florida-fried fools

With all the media attention paid to skin cancer, especially in recent years, I am completely bewildered by the large number of tanning salons in the area.

Especially since we're only a 15-minute drive from the beach. And there is, in fact, one tanning salon within *sight* of the beach. I have yet to figure that one out. I guess people want to rotisserie themselves without getting sand in their skivvies.

Y'know, one would think that since one roasts meat in hopes achieving a nice golden-brown look, that attempting such a maneuver on one's own skin would NOT be a good thing. I know double-digits of people who have had surgeries to remove cancerous growths from their skin. Every year, especially in the heat of summer, the paper has articles on the perils of skin cancer.

And yet there are numerous tanning salons in the area, which means there is a large enough clientele to keep them in business. Maybe the sun has already taken out their brain cells.

I will admit, I am a bit biased in regard to the state sport of sunworshipping. Being a redhead, and like most redheads, having very fair skin, I have a rather healthy respect (or is it fear?) of what the sun is capable of doing to my skin. (It only takes one instance of second-degree sunburn to drive that lesson home...) It follows that the primary appeal of living in Florida for many people, the beach, is completely lost on me. I worked beachside for almost 3 years. Literally...it took only a dart across a street and a walk down wooden stairs to put the sand in my sandals. And in that three years, you know how many times I went to the beach?

Three. Once to get water for my stepson's science fair project, and twice for shuttle launches.

I'll save the golden-brown for the Thanksgiving turkey.

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