Boy is my face red. No, really.

Before work, I ran a few last-minute errands, including visiting the tanning salon for the last time before I fly home to Nebraska. I don't normally tan because my skin is so fair, but I figured I should try to be a little darker than my white dress.

Much like the last chance workout on Biggest Loser, the guy at the salon made sure to maximize my last few minutes in the tanning bed ... which included using the 'tingle lotion.' I won't go into the background of why tingling is a good thing for tanning ... all that matters right now is 'tingle' really means 'turn bright red for an hour.' Bright red. Fourty days in the desert red. Ripe tomato in the middle of an office building red.

So here I sit. At work. People doing double-takes and asking if I am ok every few minutes. Red.

Jeez.

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