I have a confession to make. I've been tanning lately. Like, not a ton, but I'll visit the old cancer bed every week or so, mostly just to get warm. I know, it's bad, but I can't help it.
I'm freezing. All. The. Time.
And it's only November.
I'm not going to handle this winter well, I can tell, and I should be so grateful, since it's not the bone chilling sub zero kind of winter you get in Illinois. But still, I'm so cold! I've had my thyroid checked, and yeah, it's off, but I can only take so many pills each day, so those are usually the ones that get left behind. I know if I took them more regularly, I wouldn't be so cold all the time, but they don't help that much, so it's not a big deal.
Also, I like the little bronze sheen I'm getting as a bonus from the tanning bed. I can't complain about that.
One thing I don't like, is the biotch that works at the tanning salon. She's there every time I go in. I'm very pleasant with her. She is not. She won't make eye contact, and she acts like I'm totally putting her out when I show up. She has the requisite bleachy blond hair, and super leathery skin, along with what I can only assume are collagen fillers in her lips, because you think Lisa Rinna's old lip was bad? This girl puts her to shame. I call her a typical Tanorexic.
I'm not turning into one those, I assure you, I'm merely seeking warmth, but I can certainly see how the tanorexia can take over, and before you know it, your jonesing for a hit of UV, and getting the withdrawals from artificial face plumper.