This is not a PSA. But it could be.

I really like to be tan.  Wait, scratch that.  I LOVE to be tan.  And I don't mean Jersey Shore orange Oompa Loompa tan.  I mean deep, dark, "I just came back from vacation in Brazil" bronze.  A tan can perform miracles:  It covers up spider veins, hides blemishes, and makes you look thinner.  Unfortunately, there is a flip side to this.

It can also cause cancer (like melanoma, for example, for which there is really no cure).

My immediate family history already includes cancer.  So genetics may or may not be on my side.  I also dissect about 1000 possible cancer specimens every week.  Having literally watched people die a slow painful death from cancer (most recently my father-in-law), I would really like to do whatever I can to NOT get it.

So in the fall of 2005 I stopped laying in the sun.  I stopped going to tanning beds (which were recently classified as a known carcinogen).  And I tried to embrace being pale.  Even though I knew I was warding off cancer (along with early wrinkles and leathery skin), I really loathed the way I looked.  It was pitiful really.  So pale lasted about a month.

Since then, I swear I think I have tried every single sunless tanner on the market.  I have done lotions, creams, and sprays at home.  I have gone to spray booths and I have even stood stark naked while a technician airbrushed the tanner on me.  I know what works for my chemical make up and I know what really, really does not.  I do lectures on skin cancer prevention and am always, without fail, asked what type of sunless tanner I use because it always looks natural like a "real" tan.  I like to consider myself a pro.

Then this happened yesterday.

Yes, I am ashamed to admit that in my haste for my first spray tan of the year, I neither put barrier cream on my soles nor wore flip flops.  I just kind of forgot.  So each time I changed positions while being sprayed, I stepped on the mist on the floor.  And never thought a thing about it.  Although the lighting isn't the best in this pic (which I just snapped with my phone), there really isn't a glare on my arch.  Your eyes do not deceive you.  My feet are the darkest, deepest, brown I have ever seen.  The picture truly does not do them justice.  It is sadly, much worse (and darker) in person.  And it looks utterly ridiculous.  Although it does prove that I have pretty good arches.  There are no flat feet on this girl!  If you have ever had this happen to you, then you know that this color will have to wear off.  There is no amount of scrubbing, or lemon juice, or anything else that will get this off my feet.  I'm probably at least a week out from normal soles.

You're probably thinking, "So what, who cares?  It's winter and no one will see your feet."  Well friends, you are wrong.  Tonight Erin, Kenzie and I are going to an event called "Jammin' in Your Jammies" to benefit Children's Hospital.  It's an overnight fest at a hotel downtown where you wear your jammies and dance, play games, and swim in the indoor pool, which Kenzie is most excited about.

Oh yes, there will be swimming.

And the last time I checked, it is not appropriate to wear shoes in a pool.  My cover is blown.