Ouch

"Amanda, you're getting a little red."
"It's ok, I don't feel like I'm burning."

How many years will it take for me to realize exactly how white and burn-prone I am? I was at the shore this weekend for a lovely anniversary party (happy anniversary Joel and Katka!), and a few short hours in the early afternoon sun did me in. I was getting that ttsssss painful sucking noise from strangers I passed at the Maryland House on the way home. My mom skipped the sunscreen lecture and moved right on to sympathy when she saw me, so you know I must have looked scary. After a vinnegar bath (let's hear it for old wive's tales), approximately one gallon of lotion and a good night's sleep, I'm a slightly duller shade of red, and I can't hear the radioactive pulsation of my skin anymore. (That last part was probably mostly my imagination, but my pastey bretheren can probably sympathize.) There's still quite a bit of heat eminating from my face... neck... earlobes... arms... chest... stomach... and thighs, but blisters seem unlikely. The most painful thing left is the endless chorus of "Whoa! You got some sun!" from coworkers.

While this post mostly serves the purpose of letting me bitch, I'd also like to remind anyone traveling with me to a sunny destination this summer (*cough* Jenna, Liz) to tell me I'm an idiot and hand me the Banana Boat when I say, "Well, it's ok, I already got one burn this summer so I should have a good base, I'm ok." I have such a selective memory when I'm near salt water, I'll need some reminding.