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My New Favorite Word


Like an anorexic who looks in the mirror and sees a body that no one else sees, my roommate would inspect her bronzed limbs, press her index finger against her flesh and sincerely complain about being so pale.
Listen, I live in the south. And I look like it. Long hair, blonde weave, acryllic nails and a membership at the tanning salon. This is my south.

Never are tanorexics more evident than at the start of spring. That's usually when they become hypnotized by their first tan of the season, and they are unable to think sensibly until the fall.

They're easily identifiable. Their ranks include that co-worker or that woman behind the counter at the drugstore who looks as if she's spent an entire summer in the tropics, even though the last bits of snow have barely melted. Some tanorexics appear orange or leathery, but more often they're just unseasonably or consistently
. [emphasis mine]


Everyone working at the tanning salon is tanorexic. It's barely April and already their skin is the color of that one ugly crayon you never would use from your pack of 64. I realize that they probably get to tan for free, but how about a little discretion? It's SPRING - a hint of color is good.

The last week in July we're going to Florida on vacation. That means I'll hit my peak tan the first week of August. AUG.UST.

I know it's not good for me (so save the lecture), but at least I do it in moderation. These tanorexics are giving us good tanners a bad name. My tan looks goooood.