Overspray

There are certain colors that of human that are simply not acceptable.

Before someone reads this and gets their panties in a bunch, I want to make abundantly clear that this is not a comment on race. The acceptable and lovely colors of human run the gamut from skin so dark that it appears almost as the color of midnight, on through the spectrum to include caramels and reds and browns, right on down to my pale, sallow ass and those so fair that you can see their veins at their temples.

That said, though, there are outliers. People who, for some reason, look at themselves in the mirror and say to themselves. "Hey, looking pretty good here. But something's missing. What do I need? What will really make this work?"

And the answer?

"Orange. I need to be orange."

At what point does one's reasoning and perception become so diseased that one feels compelled to resemble nothing so much as a fucking sweet potato?

I understand that real sun-exposure causes premature aging and skin cancer and all manner of badness. Fine. Further, I personally look much better when I have a bit of a tan, so I understand the desire to have some color. It does do wonders to ameliorate all sorts of imperfections. Wonderful.

If you want to self-tan; or spray-tan; or get your shellack on, be my guest. If, however, when you look in the mirror you think to yourself, "I need a motherfucking marshmallow," then you have overdone it and you need to STOP. Get a loofah. Scrub that shit off. Chalk it up to a learning experience. Do not go out into public. Do not pretend that you look normal. It makes it seem like you might be crazy. Stay in, order pizza or Chinese or something else that they will bring to your door. Read by the glow of your own strange skin and wait to return to normal.

Please.