Hokay, I know this is blog post 3, and I haven't even left yet. I'm building narrative tension. Anticipation vs arrival. Preconceptions vs reality, like the start of all those shows where someone goes on a Journey. It'll probably be the most interesting part of the blog. All down hill from here!
More of the story so far - I was supposed to get fit for this trip. Build stamina. Get the most out of the, y'know, training. I joined a gym for the first time in a decade. In the three months since, I've been three times. Between colds, work trips away, long days in office - usual excuses. So.. not fit, then. Plus which I've started laying down stores for winter, food-wise. Warming stews, pies, puddings - carb-heavy seasonal treats of all kinds. Predictable consequences for midriff, never a cause of pride.
It's too late to do anything about the fitness. I'll just have to splutter or swim when I get there. However, the thought of baring my pallid flabby bod on a beach in Brazil - did I mention I was going to Brazil? - a beach doubtless thronging with the youthful, bronzed and pert, or so I have heard, has prompted me to drastic action.
Yup, today I underwent my first spray tan. To take the edge of those first days on the beach. Shaves kilos off, y'know. Not in the spirit of competition, obviously... Just to blend in. I want to minimise aesthetic offence.
I realise I'm well behind the zeitgeist on this one. However I calculate many of the likely female readers of this blog are probably in the same position and may value some reflections on this novel experience. So I thought I would share. Sensitive males, on the other hand, may wish to stop reading now.
Still with me? Here we go. It's so ridiculous it's quite fun. You pick a shade between, say, "honey" and "chocolate" and nervously seek assurances that you won't end up orange. Then you strip to some paper knickers and a shower cap, and the very obliging young lady returns and, well, sprays you. From a thing that looks like a vacuum cleaner in reverse. She crouches about five feet away and hoses you from top to toe as she instructs you to strike successive Egyptian poses to avoid missing a bit. It's basically a big airbrush. So that takes 10 minutes and is fairly straightforward, if silly.
The tricky part starts post-spray, when you need to preserve the even sheen of your newly applied glaze. Because it doesn't set straight away. The basic guidelines seem to be a) don't wash b) don't sweat c) don't put back on any elasticated or tight clothes, like, say, the bra or socks you walked in in, and d) don't shave for a week (sorry guys, I did say). Just the last bit for a week, I should say. The others are 12 hours. And.. don't immediately allow any part of your body to resume contact with any other part of your body that might smear the application.
As I write, I'm not sure how successfully I have followed these instructions. I have inadvertently washed the dye of the back of my hands, and allowed it to gather on the palms of my hands. I have an accretion of colour at the base of my throat that looks like a healed tracheotomy. What looks like a livid bruise under my chin. That's just the bits I can see without taking off any clothes. And I feel reeely sticky. But it's not orange, I'll say that for it. Anyhow, it's all supposed to settle down shower tomorrow.
I will, as you are coming to learn, keep you posted.
J
PS I hope the new template is more relevant and easier on the eye
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