I feel I need to apologise for my absence and things being very quiet here on the blogging front, but i do have an excuse… I’ve been on my hollybobs!
A week of sun, sea and sun intolerant skin!
Now ‘Confessions of a Ginger’ wouldn’t be very confessional (I think I just made that one up) if it failed to mention the skin of a red head whilst abroad.
Now seems an apt time to take you on a whistle stop tour of the evolution of sun cream
- Thick green wall paper paste
- Thick white wall paper paste
The bane of my toddlerhood was the thick gloop (love that word… GLOOP) that was plastered on me mid tantrum and tears. I HATED it, it didn’t rub in and made me look like offspring of an alien. I mean yeah I guess they changed it from green to white eventually, which was an improvement but it still didn’t change the fact that I had to be pinned down by my parents to get it anywhere near me.
- White cream
Okay, even I have to admit that as I approached childhood it had got a lot better, it now rubbed in and resembled more of a cream than a paste. However the resentment grew as I watched my younger sister be sprayed in this fine mist which apparently was sun cream whilst I was still basted up like a chicken ready to be cooked!
- White Spray cream
As my teens approached, finally factor 50 caught up and came in the form of that delightful fine mist I watched my sister apply year on year, however, little did I know that STILL resentment would bubble. Yes you guessed it, this time as I rubbed this white spray into my skin, my sister was rubbing an invisible spray into her skin, you couldn’t see or feel it! IT JUST WASN’T FAIR
- Clear Spray Cream
So there we have it, finally as I reach my twenties, factor 50 have actually caught up, I can finally wear cream like every other sun lovin’ person on the planet – two decades on and I finally have no resentment!
As you have probably worked out by now, I was a bitter, sun intolerant young human, but who can blame me…….
I was also that kid that had to wear a tshirt in the pool and the sea. Okay, yes my parents only had my best interest at heart, because undoubtedly I would have been cooked if I hadn’t, but if you have ever had to swim with tshirt on.. (usually a 50 times too big dads shirt) you will know it is the heaviest thing ever, and makes you feel like a beached walrus.
This is not even mention the tan (or lack of). My only form of colour comes from the dot to dot of freckles that invade my face, arms and oddly just my knees! Mind you rumour has it, that each freckle is a sole that I have stolen, so who knows!
As I have aged my skin is not quite as intolerant as it used to be but still requires a retreat to a shady spot for a spot of shade bathing in the mid day sun! And besides, I’ve done my time and experienced enough burns to last a life time!
So there we have it, confessions of a hard day’s holiday in the life of a ginger! But who can let an unfortunate genetic combination ruin a good sunny break (and maybe a cocktail or 4)
What are your complexion curses?