Ban the Tan

I'll be the first to admit I went through a stage a few years back of having a serious tan. Not a fake one, but not a real one - a solarium tan. I was addicted to golden skin. And I had myself convinced solarium tans were safer than real sun tans - a falicy of course. The fact I used solariums so much is now a constant monkey on my back, reminding me I'll probably end up with skin cancer and die.

Over the past couple of years, I've become an advocate of the moon tan, prefering to use spray tans for special occasions when my lily white skin just isn't going to cut it with that open back dress.

But even the spray tan has begun to scare me.

Firstly, I'm not sure coating my body from head to toe in some weird dye-like, semi-waterproof substance can be all that good for me. And secondly, I'm frightened I'm going to get a bad spray tan one day, and end up looking like Valentino:
So the thought of going to Ibiza has been scaring the shit out of me. I'm going to stand out for all the wrong reasons - primarily because I'll be glowing like Casper the Ghost.
But just because I'm short and as white as Casper doesn't mean I will allow myself to be intimated by all the tall, fake tanned chicks in Ibiza. Even though they think they look like this:
We all know that after the Jager shots have all been drunk and the harsh reality of daylight sets in, they really look like this:
I can't decide which one I like best - bitch who smokes cigarette between her ta-tas on the right; boggle-eye horseface Titsiana Booberini on the left; or Malcolm in the middle. They all have their own je ne sais quoi - don't you think? I should be so lucky to encounter these kind of folk in Ibizatown later tonight. It'll be just like going to a Middle Earth music festival* where Oompa Loompas are invited too.
This post makes me feel physically ill. After looking at all these photos, I've pretty much convinced myself I'm never getting any kind of tan again. Given, a healthy glow is becoming and a tan is slimming, but the risks are high. A fraction too much and you'll wake up dead. Or worse - you end up resembling George Hamilton.
*Thanks for the joke Flynn hehehe