What Am I Waiting For?

The self-tans are rolling in, the bronzers are ready to be cracked open, and yet…

And yet, I hesitate. Mainly because I look out my window and see this:

I wish I had video on this blog {soon…} because the rate at which those trees are swaying, and the horizontality of the rain — it is inexpressible, really.

So I look at that and think, I’m supposed to be tanning?

And then one of the other parts of my brain/mind goes: Yeah, but, why not? A little bronze-goddessy-ness would be a great pick-you-up.

Maybe. See, for me, the whole tanning thing is located firmly in an immutable part of the year, and it is attached to specific actions: laying out, the ritualistic application of suntan lotion, being at the beach or the pool, being on holiday — it is the mark of actually having experienced actual sunshine.

Here in Ireland, tanning is an activity that we use to fool ourselves into thinking that the months from June to August signify a period of time in which the weather changes for the warmer and brighter, i.e. ‘summer’. Or, we just do it because we feel like it, or we’ve got a wedding or a christening to go to <— this is generally more for the people who are personally involved in those events, but not always; I’ve got a wedding to go to,  and I’m thinking I may go get a spray…

I cling to this notion that tanning is only for ‘summer’, but on a day like today, I’m thinking it might be time to throw off the conditioning of a lifetime.

Maybe I’ll start, and just do my legs… but it is really only April… halp.

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