I don’t usually take my clothes off on story assignments.
Not when the exotic dancer asked me if I wanted to give it a whirl. Or when I went to the nudist hot springs and I was the only one at the pool not letting it all hang out.
This time, however, I was all in.
Well, not quite all. I kept on the basics while I went from pasty-white to sun-kissed in 10 minutes.
It was my first tan-looking tan in decades.
I’d tried those drug store self-tanning lotions and wound up splotchy and smelling lotiony. As for tanning beds … no way would I get into one of those fry-babies.
When the lady holding the spray nozzle offered to tan me up, how could this pale gal refuse?
The room was private so I tossed aside my outer garments and stepped on a mat in front of a fan that sucked away the excess mist so I wouldn’t breathe it in.
Salon owner Heidi Brager put a hairnet on my head, a ring plug in my nose and foil patches over my eyes.
Then she pulled the trigger.
She took me through a series of poses. Turn. Stand this way. Put my arms out.
I couldn’t see what she was doing — or how silly I looked — but I could feel the spray’s gentle chill. The mist was refreshing, like those cool water misters at parks.
It was quick and fun. Minutes later, I was dressed and on my way, with a list of simple follow-up instructions to moisturize and make sure to wear sunscreen.
The spray had a nice scent. It didn’t stain my clothes. The color was natural.
I had tan lines for the first time in years. My husband said it looked “hot.”
Now this could get addicting.
Andrea Brown: 425-339-3443; abrown@heraldnet.com. Twitter: @reporterbrown.
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