Whiteness

I was once told my skin color is a 3 on a scale of 1 to 10: 1 being Albino, 10 being an olive-toned caucasian. Obviously this was from a fellow market researcher, hence the numbered scale, and no there wasn’t bias since said person didn’t know I could hear him :)

I’ve lived with white skin all my life that no amount of sun will change (unless it means to red). Trust me people, I just don’t get tan. No, seriously. Trust me. And yes, I know it. Thankfully the comments of “wow, you’re white” subsided in childhood. Apparently adults don’t feel the need to point out the obvious. Adults know that a) I have looked in the mirror once or twice in my life, b) I have looked at the color of my arms before even without a mirror once or twice in my life and c) I’m not colorblind and even if I was I would still be able to tell that I am white, so I don’t need a reminder of the degree of my paleness.

Anyway, the good news about all this is that I went to a pool party the other Saturday and of the caucasians in the group, I was average! That’s right folks, I’m normal here and I didn’t need a slathering of fake tan to feel comfortable wearing shorts.

While I might sound bitter or overly focused on the color of my skin, I’m really not. I’ve accepted it and while I may venture to do the mystic fake tan booth once in a blue moon, I’m saving myself the hassle of fake-tan-stained sheets and possible orange tinted skin while I’m here in London, home of the English Rose. Furthermore, I find comfort that in the 1200s in China, I would be deemed as Nobility for my shade of skin.

I’ve always thought China in the 1200s would suit me well. Especially if "fatter" was in back then. Ugh. Why was I born in 1984? Maybe because I couldn't live without modern appliances like toilets...

Anne Hathaway in Bride Wars with the bad fake tan blues.