Memoirs of a Sunscreen

Now that summer is over, I am slowly transitioning my life to fall and winter gear. Sure, it is late for most people but I live in Arizona. Winter does not require a full costume change like it does up north. The shorts do not disappear for months and store clerks will still look at you blankly if you request hats or gloves. It is a bit more subtle in the Southwest. Here we just adjust which sunscreen we might use as the blistering hot sun will only be out for 10 hours instead of 14 or 15. So instead of unpacking boxes of heavy jackets or snow boots, I spent the afternoon cleaning out my bathroom only to find an inordinate amount of sunscreen.

I have the best intentions to use sunscreen. I put sunscreen on my packing list. I dutifully buy sunscreen.  I pack the sunscreen. I use a bit of it on my trip but as always, inconsistently. My dermatologist will shake her head then go at me with frozen nitrogen as punishment on my return. I unpack my bag. I open the drawer in my bathroom where I deposit the half-used bottle of sunscreen.  There I find many more bottles of sunscreen, souvenirs from other trips.  Of course I already had sunscreen. I do this every single time.

I am an unsentimental person. I am not someone to buy memorabilia on a trip. I do not have a mug collection. I do not buy the t-shirt or the hat or really anything at all, except it seems, I buy sunscreen. Each bottle was purchased with a specific trip in mind. Each sunscreen promptly forgotten on return, only to languish in a drawer until it is joined by more bottles of sunscreen.

The drawer is full. I am sure they are reproducing in there.

I line them up on the bathroom counter to count. Eight. Okay, nine or ten if you count the travel size. They come in so many shapes and sizes. The bottles are such gorgeous colors as if this cream, not my swim suit is what people will be noticing. I am fascinated to see the way that each of these bottles who contain essentially the same ingredients all claim to do something different from the rest. There is scented, unscented, streak free, spray, hypoallergenic, waterproof and long lasting to name a few. Could there really be that many different needs when it comes down to avoiding a sunburn? None of them mention that the best bet is to stay in the shade fully clothed but I guess that isn’t good for business.

In spite of this, I am loath to get rid of them. They are in various states of full to empty. Should I take a half full one? What if I run out? I will take two half full bottles so that I finish one off but have a back up in case I run out. But I don’t want to take two bottles. It takes up too much room. With all the fighting for an overhead bin and fluid limits and the pain of waiting for checked luggage, I try to minimize. So I just buy another bottle when I get there, a full one that will get me through the whole trip, so I won’t run out. Of course I don’t run out. I never do. I don’t used enough sunscreen.

I thought of just throwing them out but I hesitated. Why in the world should I keep so many bottles of sunscreen, I scolded myself. Turns out, I am more sentimental than I thought and now I am attached. When the fluorescent orange bottle runs out, then the cruise to Alaska I took three years ago really has come to an end and it was quite enjoyable. I savor the trip vicariously through this bottle. I made the most headway on the banana yellow bottle. I hiked that one 200 miles on the John Muir Trail. I was so desperate to shed any weight from my pack, I slathered the stuff on as if it would get rid of pounds, not ounces. There is the little white bottle I took to Hawaii. It was 70 SPF since figured I would get the most sun there snorkeling around and should bulk up a bit on the SPF. Turns out the only time I was in the water, I was in a full wetsuit so there wasn’t really any sun exposure anyway. The one I took to Key West was only 30 SPF since I was looking to get a tan. I never left the bar long enough to get to the beach so it came home full. Of course there is the bottle of 50 SPF that is made with titanium. I am assuming this is why it costs the same as a high end bicycle. Titanium provides a “physical barrier of defense” or at least that is what the woman with flawless skin at the makeup counter assured me. I bought two bottles as penance for my age spots. If it doesn’t work, I hope I can recycle the titanium into a knife set.

I do not want to give the impression I lay around to “tan”. I will do anything but this. I will even go see an art museum with my mother before I voluntarily lay around and bake. I find this to be dull and much to hot and usually associated with beaches. By the time you have greased up then sat around in the sand, I feel like a walking piece of sandpaper. No thanks.

So it is no fault but my own that I am pealing from a bad sunburn. On a whimsical trip to a hot spring in the Colorado Rockies, I striped down to my bikini and soaked in the warm waters. I thought about putting on sunscreen before I did so and thought, we won’t be here long. I thought about putting some on as we lounged creekside and had a drink. I thought about it as we walked by the car where the sunscreen was tucked away on our way to the next hot pool. Nope. Never bothered to actually slather myself up as I exposed my sheet white belly to random strangers and the ball of fire in the sky. 

Once again, I came home with another bottle of sunscreen to add to the drawer. This time I also brought home a bright red, now peeling sun burn. I marvel at that amount of skin I am shedding. I don’t dare commit a murder right now. The biological evidence I leave in my wake would be overwhelming. I can only hope that it at least equates to weight loss. Maybe once I have sluffed off this shell I will discover flawless skin underneath. I promise to protect it this time. I will hide under a rock and only come out at night. Maybe then I, too, can get a job at a beauty counter and make money shaming people for their aging skin. My future is bright at least until the next trip when I forget my sunscreen.