In 2007, I made a life-altering decision to stop engaging in a habit that had been detrimental to my health. It took just a moment to receive the call, another brief moment to say, “Okay, thank you,” and a simple stroke of a blue pen to note down a date. The ease with which I made this choice still astonishes me; it was faster than heating a meal in the microwave. While others spend countless hours deliberating over car purchases or scrolling through hairstyle galleries, I quit tanning as effortlessly as I would switch off the faucet filling my kitchen sink.
Growing up in the era of teen magazines and pop culture icons, I was influenced by the ideals of beauty that celebrated bronzed skin. I vividly remember using electric blue mascara and tightly rolling my jeans over my pale Keds. Despite my fair complexion and strawberry-blonde hair, I longed to be tan. Starting around the age of 12, my summers were spent on a folding lawn chair, baby oil in hand, soaking up the sun. I would dutifully flip every 30 minutes, much like a chicken roasting on a spit. As I matured, my determination only intensified. Friends assured me that the initial redness would turn to a golden glow, but for me, the reality was that the burn hurt and faded without transforming into the desired tan.
Unbeknownst to me, I was conditioning my skin. My relentless pursuit of a tan led me to higher exposure and, ultimately, more damage. Baby oil transitioned to Hawaiian Tropic tanning lotion, yet my skin refused to cooperate. After graduating in 1992, I began purchasing tanning bed sessions, despite the warnings I had heard about their dangers. My desire for that sun-kissed look overshadowed my skepticism. At 18, I found myself lying in a tanning bed, sweating profusely as UV bulbs blazed close to my skin.
My visits to the tanning bed escalated. From April to August, I would go three to four times a week, basking in the heat as my skin gradually darkened. By 2007, I was tanning from February to October, relishing every moment. Tanning had become an addiction; I didn’t just love it—I craved it. The scent of tanning accelerators was intoxicating, reminiscent of a guilty pleasure. I even found a strange comfort in the smell of my skin as it sizzled under the lights, associating it with success.
As time passed, my tan lines became permanent, a testament to my obsession. Even after the births of my two children in 2001 and 2002, I continued my routine, my skin a canvas of red and brown spots that I deemed freckles but were, in fact, signs of damage. I was oblivious to the consequences until a friend pointed out a dark, horseshoe-shaped mole on my arm in 2007. Her concern led me to a dermatologist, and within a week, I was informed that mole was melanoma.
The news rocked my world. I underwent surgery to have it excised, leaving behind a scar that would serve as a constant reminder of my choices. That moment marked the end of my tanning days. I canceled my tanning bed memberships, switched to sunscreen with at least 30 SPF, and became vigilant about protecting my children’s skin. The aftermath of my tanning habit resulted in regular dermatologist visits, biopsies, and the stark reality of having basal cell carcinoma four times since 2007.
In 2014, I began using topical chemotherapy to combat precancerous spots, a treatment I wouldn’t have needed had I not tanned. I now share my story, grateful that my friend’s concern potentially saved my life. While my experience may be less tragic than others, I recognize the dangers of tanning beds and the lessons learned from my past.
Today, I’m a devoted advocate for skin protection. My children have only known summers filled with sunscreen, and I embrace my pale skin as a symbol of survival. I’m here, alive and determined to spread awareness.
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Summary:
My journey with tanning beds nearly resulted in my demise, but a friend’s timely intervention led me to confront the harsh realities of my obsession. After being diagnosed with melanoma, I quit tanning and now prioritize skin health for myself and my children, embracing a healthier and more informed lifestyle.