My Skin Is On Fire

It feels like someone bottled up the sun, mixed it with magma, and poured it down my back. My skin is boiling lava hot right now. For years I told the world that I do not get sunburns. I’m a blonde; therefore I tan beautifully. I think it was a vain attempt at being the surfer I always dreamed I was. But now, with what feels like the fiery gates of hell licking at my preciously pre-tanned tummy, I begrudgingly admit that I do in fact burn when exposed to sunlight.

My tanning fiasco is just one of the many consequences of the bed of lies I have slowly accumulated over the years, like convincing myself that I look better 20 pounds too heavy, or that a perm was a good idea.  Let us not forget about the punk rock days of high school when I thought that since I was dating a guitar riffing aficionado that I, too, should adorn myself in Good Charlotte concert tees and Dickies. The only good thing that came out of that phase was an appreciation of a worn in pair of Chucks and confirmation that I should never wear black eyeliner…because I’m not a vampire…and vampires are awful (hold your objections right here, 13 year olds are the only ones agreeing with you, that has to prove my point).

Though a perm did create a web of insecurities that I am sure a therapist will one day have to unravel, the most obvious effect of these perpetual lies is that the girl I see in the mirror every morning is not the invincible woman that I have created. 

We spend so much time working to create a list of criteria for our future mates. A perfect blend of our physical, emotional and spiritual desires are weighed and measured until we have created what we believe to be the peanut butter to our jelly. Problem is, I don’t know what kind of jelly I am. 

I think we may have this dating thing backwards. How can we even begin to imagine that we are capable of being emotionally responsible with someone’s heart if we don’t even know who we are?  Instead of starting with a list of things we are looking for in our companions, maybe we should be honest with ourselves and provide a list of who we really are. Our résumé if you will. Maybe we should all sit down and give ourselves a good hard look in the mirror. 

At this point, here is what I know I am looking for: a dude, who is best friends with Jesus, do we really have the prerogative to ask for more than that?

So raise your hypothetical glass to being honest with the world around you. No longer will I lie to society and thus bring down the fires of hell onto my pre-summer skin. No longer will I see the world through the lens of that list I made in 7^th grade that encompassed all my girlish desires. I will create a new list, one that spells out the quirks and nuances that make me, me. 

Maybe when a guy asks for my number I’ll just slide that puppy across and say “Hey, bro. Peruse this. Figure out if you’re down. Then give me a call.”

I’ll go first. Stay tuned for my résumé.