Most of the time I love being a woman. Like all things, it can be good or bad. Being a woman means I am persuasive and have a memory like an FBI profiling elephant. Then there is this uncontrollable part of me that is irrationally drawn to romantic comedies. Women make no sense, more sense than men, but still no sense.
Today however is not a good woman empowering day. My stomach hurts, people keep saying stupid slap-deserving things and there is no way I'm putting on anything tight and going to the gym. I'm sure you've correctly guessed by now that I'm going through gotta-have-chocolate-itis. So I did what any rational redhead (yes you read that correctly) would do. I went to a public place, got naked and paid someone to make me happy. That's right, I went tanning! And it was fabulous. It felt so good to be warm when it's cold outside, listening to music, just relaxing, and knowing my kids weren't going to bother me.
There are three things that do freak me out when tanning though. One, that whole skin cancer thing. I try to look past that because it ruins my good times. And of course when you're naked in public, you should be having a good time. The second thing is the unlikely, but possible chance of someone locking the lid down with a chain, the bed never shutting off, and me screaming, but the German man who works there being out for a smoke and not hearing me. I blame Jennifer Love Hewitt in I Know What You Did Last Summer. Or was it I Still Know What You Did Last Summer? Anyway I think about that a lot in there. Third, I'm always afraid someone can see me naked. Blame it on a modest upbringing or too much late night TV. Every few minutes I snap my head up to check that there isn't a creepy little man peeking at me from the bottom of the bed. Not to mention if there was a creepy little man at the end of the bed, I would have no safe way to get out if his accomplice chained the lid shut. This is why I don't go to scary movies.