POW

gloves

This has been one of those weeks. Since attending a funeral on Monday, the following days consisted of what appears to be a coordinated effort by a number of people to either drive me scream-crying into the street, or to force me to punch someone in the face.

“I am going to punch someone in the face,” is, in fact, my new mantra. Not that I had an old mantra.

Apparently, I am having some anger issues.

I DID manage to go to the gym twice this week and row myself into a state of calmness, which was nice, and may have saved several people from being punched in the face.

I also treated myself to a couple of trips to the tanning bed. I fool myself into thinking this is okay for me because I am vitamin D deficient and so the tanning session is actually therapeutic. Two days ago, the orange-colored young man who checked me in asked what I was using to tan. I told him, “myself.” He quickly went into the annoying sales pitch for tanning lotion that is the bane of my existence and yet another behavior that makes me want to punch people in the face.

He insisted that I apply my $20 credit toward some lotion to help with my tanning. Out of curiosity, I asked him how much the one he was shoving at me cost. He gleefully told me that after the $20 coupon, I would only need to pay $68 to have the joy of owning that lotion. I nearly spit at him. I DID laugh out loud, which he did not take well. His orange complexion turned decidedly rust colored.

I informed him that I don’t spend that kind of money on anything relating to my physical maintenance. Seriously. That’s Neimans money. I’m a CVS girl. But Palm Beach Tan wants me to spend $88 full price for something called “Dark D Light” or some such. Actually, he also showed me some “more affordable” options called “It Factor” and “Bringin’ Sexy Black.”

I kid you not. That is not a typo.

I don’t know who names these things, but I really want to punch that person in the face.

When I refused again, he warned me that when you don’t use lotion, your skin REFLECTS THE LIGHT FOR 8 MINUTES. Therefore, I wasn’t getting the best out of the tanning bed session. I found this confusing since they tell me I can’t stay in the tanning bed for more than 12 minutes lest I fry myself. But now I’m not doing anything but wasting time for 8 of those minutes? Make up your mind, people.

I don’t need this sales quota fear mongering – especially from some 20-year-old oompa loompa.

I refused to participate in the ridiculous conversation any longer unless he was going to let me punch him in the face, which I doubted.

So now, I have a little healthy color and have made it through the week without hurting anyone.

We’ll call that a win.

And maybe make some adjustments to the hormones I’m on.

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