At 3:30 this morning, I arrived home from an altogether relaxing vacation. Naturally, I am taking today off work, to ease back into my normal life from the arduous past week of sleeping, eating, and drinking on or by the beach/pool. But the trip was not completely perfect. You see, at least 50% of my genetic makeup comes from the beautiful country of Ireland. For me, this means two things: 1) I can drink heroic amounts of alcohol with little effect, and 2) I don't do well in the sun.
A week ago Sunday, after lathering up with SPF 45 and spending about two hours on the beach, 80% of my body turned the color of a medium rare steak. Particularly hard hit were my shoulders, and when I woke up the next day, any sort of arm movement was met with a great searing pain. I made the decision to switch to SPF 70, which I didn't even know existed. I gingerly covered my body in the lotion and headed back to the beach.
However, when my mom saw me, she gasped. "Oh my God! Your shoulders! You can't be out in the sun again!" Of course, I didn't want to spend my vacation inside, so we compromised. I put my t-shirt back on, and waded into the ocean. I was Shirt In The Ocean Guy.
Usually, a guy (or girl) becomes Shirt In The Ocean (or, Shirt In The Pool) Guy/Girl due to severe sunburn or severe insecurity. Now, I hardly have the ideal beach body--the pale hairy look doesn't exactly turn heads--but I am not trying to impress anyone. For this reason, I was somewhat embarrassed to be Shirt In The Ocean Guy. I didn't want random beachgoers to think I was trying to hide crippling insecurity. I considered pitching the t-shirt and showing off my red torso with pride, but the pain of removing the wet t-shirt proved to be too much, so I resigned myself to my fate of being Shirt In The Ocean Guy. My shoulders thank me. The SPF 70 succeeded in preventing further burning on my exposed skin, although I am now just a deep red. It isn't as bad as fresh sunburn, but it's not exactly the healthy tan look that people strive for.
Postscript: After leaving the beach Friday, the wife and I drove over to visit her family on the way home. When being greeted by some extended family members at a gathering thrown by her Mom, the same scene played out over and over. They would hug my wife and say, "Oh look at you! You're so tan!" Then they would hug me, and see my red face, arms, and legs. "Oh...looks like you got some sun, Mike." Like I said, I don't tan well.
