On being a bronze Demi-God
So it's finally happened. On the list of, "Shit I'm not going to do in my life unless I'm absolutly forced to or being paid to do in a legally binding contract" I now have to do like number three on the list.
That's right. I have to tan. Fake bake, bronze, fry, mechanically toast, UV spray...
Ugh.
Seems as though when playing a greek prince he can't look like a pasty english one. Go figure.
So myself and two of the other guys bought tanning packages at the local gym. After a workout we all went in one by one. Jason went first, then Joe, then it came to be my turn. The overly bronze lady who works the front desk led me to the tanning room, and after a couple of embarrassing questions (such as: "What do I wear in there, like, shorts? or...you know...not shorts?") she showed me the machine itself. A goliath of a standing tanning bed (which isnt really a bed if you're standing up is it?). Needless to say it looked like a gas chamber and had to ask myself, "Will I be sucking back mustard gas for five minutes, is this all an elaborate trick? Is this overly tanned woman a nazi?" So she programmed the machine for five minutes, left, and I nervously took off my clothes...yadda, yadda, yadda. Time seemed to speed up in the tanning bed, five minutes went by so fast, all I could think was "this isn't so bad, is it working? What happens if I take these goggles off? I'm warm." The thing shut off in the blink of a UV protected eye and I stepped out ready to check myself out.
All of the guys and I figured we would be turned instantly into these six foot two muscular gods with shiny gleaming perfect teeth and biceps that hurt to look at. We thought we would emerge from the tanning bed victorious warriors, concquering the power of the sun...alas no. I was a smidge red. It turned the next day to light tan, and now I must go again.
BUT THIS TIME I HAVE TANNING LOTION! BRONZE GOD HERE I COME! WAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
cheers,
D.
That's right. I have to tan. Fake bake, bronze, fry, mechanically toast, UV spray...
Ugh.
Seems as though when playing a greek prince he can't look like a pasty english one. Go figure.
So myself and two of the other guys bought tanning packages at the local gym. After a workout we all went in one by one. Jason went first, then Joe, then it came to be my turn. The overly bronze lady who works the front desk led me to the tanning room, and after a couple of embarrassing questions (such as: "What do I wear in there, like, shorts? or...you know...not shorts?") she showed me the machine itself. A goliath of a standing tanning bed (which isnt really a bed if you're standing up is it?). Needless to say it looked like a gas chamber and had to ask myself, "Will I be sucking back mustard gas for five minutes, is this all an elaborate trick? Is this overly tanned woman a nazi?" So she programmed the machine for five minutes, left, and I nervously took off my clothes...yadda, yadda, yadda. Time seemed to speed up in the tanning bed, five minutes went by so fast, all I could think was "this isn't so bad, is it working? What happens if I take these goggles off? I'm warm." The thing shut off in the blink of a UV protected eye and I stepped out ready to check myself out.
All of the guys and I figured we would be turned instantly into these six foot two muscular gods with shiny gleaming perfect teeth and biceps that hurt to look at. We thought we would emerge from the tanning bed victorious warriors, concquering the power of the sun...alas no. I was a smidge red. It turned the next day to light tan, and now I must go again.
BUT THIS TIME I HAVE TANNING LOTION! BRONZE GOD HERE I COME! WAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
cheers,
D.