So I spent this past weekend with my family and K at my grandparents’ house in the Poconos, swimming in the lake, playing shuffleboard, hanging out at night.
And, since I’ve (unfortunately) spent most of this summer away from any type of beach, I got a wicked sunburn. Mostly just my back, but it crept its way a bit onto my neck and shoulders as well.
ANYWAY, I was taking a shower when I realized how much I loved it. The sunburn that is, not the shower, though that too was quite refreshing.
See, a sunburn means something. You don’t get sunburns in an office (Ed. note- This originally said "at work," but Chris noted that I was an elitist for saying so, since some people do get sunburns at work. I contend that people who work outside are probably already tan, and thus don't burn. But I changed it anyway.). You don’t get sunburns at funerals. You don’t get sunburns when you’re grocery shopping.
You get sunburns when you’re having too much fun to feel your skin LITERALLY BURNING.
Most instances of burnt skin (house fire, acid thrown in your face by a mad scientist) are reason for alarm, but not a sunburn. Because while those examples may horribly disfigure you for the rest of your life, a sunburn will turn to a beautiful glow within a few days.
Oh, I should mention cancer. Skin cancer. Um, it sucks and I hope I don’t get it but if I do get it I hope it’s so late in life that I spent my teens, twenties and thirties looking awesome with copper-colored skin and I mean old people are supposed to look old right (?) so if when I’m 70 my face looks like a beat-up catcher’s mitt that’s a sign that I led an awesome life so I’m totally okay with not wearing sunblock.
My back hurts.