Orange is a popular theme today.
All of which brought back my own misgivings about the hue.
Summer in South Africa is a wonderful thing.
Endless blue skies, incredible sunshine, purple blossoms, girls in short skirts… and that’s where I stop.
Girls in short skirts need a tan.
I don’t care what kind people say, stark white legs like mine are just scary in short skirts. So, I suffer through the heat in jeans.
Quite seriously, if I strip down into a bikini on the beach people will trip over me I camouflage so well.
Also anyone stupid enough to sit next to me will get 3rd degree burns from the reflection.
As a result at various times I have resorted to self-tan. Not the scary scary body builder self tan, but very expensive salon self tans or other dodgy products that promised me beautiful golden skin.
There were the self tan pills that I took religiously and with great hope. They turned my fingers and nose orange and took about 6 weeks to fade away to pale normality.
There was the sun bed fiasco. I tried that topless as per instructions. And I burnt my boobs. For about a week I wept in silent agony. I did not get a refund.
So when on my way to Thailand, I was determined to fit in. So, the day before my flight I paid through the nose for a spray tan.
I went home, I went to bed. When I woke bright and early to catch my flight, I stole a glance in the mirror.
I was day glo. Glow in the dark. Freaky. Something About Mary. Orange. ORANGE!
I panicked. I went back to the salon and threw a weeping, crying, begging, pleading fit.
I was exfoliated, bleached and God knows what and I was still orange.
So I went to Thailand and wore a kaftan the whole damn time.
Because hey – I was ORANGE!