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Sunscream

Ninety seven percent of every day is spent doing this.

Ninety seven percent of every day is spent doing this.

Everyone in my family is a pale person who hails from pasty town. And that is why, before venturing out in the sun, we attend to our skin with vigor; that is, I chase the children through the apartment with a tube of white sticky sunscreen, pin them down, and douse them in it against their will.

Coincidentally, my children think it’s called “sunscream,” and I refuse to correct them.

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you measured our sunscreen usage and we were close to the three quarts/week mark. This summer, thanks to my family and our moley skin, sunscreen company owners all over America bought themselves new boats with the money they made off of us. You’re welcome, sunscreen tycoons.

Listen, I’m not complaining about the whole sunscreen thing. I get it. It’s important. I’m not going to stop doing it or anything. I just happen to feel that the process could be “improved,” and I’m just saying that if I ran the world, it would be.

Number one: Sunscreen should be more attractive. We really haven’t figured out a way to make it clear by now, at a minimum? Are you telling me that I can shoot lasers out of my Google glasses, but I still can’t get high SPF sunscreen in a fun but non ridiculous color? I’m not talking skin tone colors, I’m talking periwinkle. Dusty rose. Aubergine.

Also, it should have sparkly gold stars for a touch of whimsy. No? Just me? OK. I appreciate a gold star every once and a while.

Number two: There’s always one kid at the park who’s face is coated white because his mom was too frightened that it would lose its effectiveness if absorbed and/or couldn’t be bothered to even give it a quick massage into the skin. Good Lord woman, rub it in! Oh wait, that kid is me. Nevermind.

Number three: I acknowledge that we’re pretty much reverse tanning at this point; we get paler every day as the summer progresses. My children are so un-sunned they’re practically translucent. But what has happened is that my children are now terrified of the sun. Haha — WHY?! Is it because every time they go out I plunge them headfirst into a barrel of Coppertone? Do they think that if sunlight penetrates that top layer of titanium dioxide, they will slowly start to melt together into one child? We have to think of a way for our children to LOVE the sun, (but also HATE the sun) and this is complicated. Thinking more on this one.

Number four, and this is a biggie: I will be needing a large studio apartment attached to my apartment that is dedicated solely to sunscreen application. Because seriously, with the sprays and the creams and the ointments, and God love them when my children try to help–the mess it creates. (Honestly, it’s my ‘wire hangers.’) I will be needing this sunscreen antechamber by the start of next summer (Rome wasn’t built in a day — I’m nothing if not reasonable) and of course, it would be best if there was some kind of hand washing station, etc., etc., you get the picture.

And with that, I appeal to all those sunscreen tycoons out there for help with this. I MADE YOU WHO YOU ARE. It’s called “giving back.”

I await your speedy reply.

xo

Sam

 

 

 

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