The sun and I have a love/hate relationship. I hate it, but the sun loves me. No matter where I go, there it is— searing my alabaster skin. I used to enjoy the sun, lathering up with various creams, salves and lotions to enhance my tan.  I look more oiled up than the Louisiana coastline in nearly every picture from my teen years.

I’m Scottish by heritage. Scots aren’t known for their natural ability to bronze up. We’re known for being translucent. In fact, you can probably see my inner organs if you look close enough. Despite having freckles and being a true redhead, I was forever determined to get a good base tan. Never happened.  I was pinkish-red from May-September.  I was always medium rare, but could never achieve well done.

And then I had a skin cancer scare when I was in college. An unsympathetic dermatologist hacked a teeny, tiny mole out of my back. Tiger Woods leaves smaller divots. Turned out to be Squamish cell carcinoma. Ever since then I’ve tried to avoid that big glowing orb in the sky.

Now, I’m touting the virtues of sunscreen and spray tans. Heck, I’m even hocking them on TV. (Watch the link below.) But I’m a firm believer in protecting yourself from the sun’s harmful rays.

http://www.kctv5.com/video/24028187/index.html

Once I had an age analysis at a medical spa. I stuck my face in some sort of high-tech contraption that scanned me for any skin damage. I screamed like a 12-year old girl when I saw the results. Apparently, my obsession with the sun in my formative younger years was poised to wreak havoc on my face later in life. Sunscreen is cheap in comparison to all the procedures I’ve had done to erase the sun’s damage.

Ironic to think how much I hated sunburns.  Now I’m paying to have a laser beam resurface the first epidermal layer of my face. When you get sunburn, you peel. When you use a laser, your face falls off and then grows back.

Sun of a bitch!