Is putting sunscreen on your own back. Really—give it a try
next time you have some downtime; it’s really difficult and actually quite
terrifying. Difficult in the sense that I, like much of the world, am not
particularly “bendy”; terrifying in the sense that as I’m doing it, I know that
hours of sun exposure after a poor application will result in days of painful
skin regeneration and necessitate me sleeping on my chest. Now, as I don’t
particularly enjoy regrowing skin, and knowing that my chest is freakishly
sensitive to being slept on (I guess the cat’s finally out of the bag), putting
sunscreen on my own back has become the bane of my solo-travel experience.
Some of you may question why I don’t just ask other people
to apply sunscreen to my back. While that’s a valid question, it’s actually not
so please don’t ask it. Stupid questions are part of life, but let me answer
this one before it escapes your mouth, or even the mouth of your little
inner-thought person.
The reason why I don’t ask strangers (read:
friends-I-haven’t-met-yet) to apply sunscreen to my back is because it is a really awkward thing to ask of someone
who you don’t know. Furthermore, how do you even begin to pick out your
sunscreen-application victims? What are the qualities in a person that make
them look like they’ll not only be good at applying sunscreen, but also want to apply it to someone who they
have never met before. I know many of you boys and girls out there won’t accept
my opinion without a fight, so let’s move on and walk through all of the
possible scenarios and outcomes.
Situation A: I
ask a male stranger to apply sunscreen to my back.
Possible Outcome #1: he declines.
Awkward. I walk away, disgraced, and ask other strangers to
help me while simultaneously my back burns in the sweltering Greek sun and my
self-confidence falters. My back will burn, and—as I’m unable to sleep on my
chest—I won’t be able to sleep until my skin grows back; I’ll get sick, and
then I’ll die. Too extreme? Well you don’t agree with me, so I don’t care what
you think anyway.
Possible Outcome #2: he accepts.
Perfect—my back will be lubed up with an unknown amount of
sunscreen by a strange man. An undeterminable amount of awkward male-stranger
backrubbing will ensue, and my back may, or may not, be adequately protected
from the sun. (link: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3npLQpR9VR7vZmW2CnmDV3jCbIKyfQ7kAllhQnhpDEH-5cAr4sxgF-FUelEjch0nKd0APAYvU-TvYVDQcHqvO-N0m5xabcCqLBvRrM-icUh66hWgxQZV1KM-hE1zIDR8XW3VW5ZoTpj6/s1600/sunburn1.jpg).
I thank him, give him a slap on the ass in appreciation (handshakes are outdated),
and we part ways. Still weird.
I think I should take a moment and explain how applying
sunscreen to someone is a more intimate experience than you might initially realize.
While it may usually be innocent, and putting sunscreen on your child/friend/anyone-except-a-stranger
certainly is, rubbing lotion into a person’s skin is still a much more intimate activity that you’d
want to experience with a total stranger given normal circumstances. So, let’s
take a moment and define what’s “intimate” through the use of examples:
Not intimate: handing a cashier your credit card at Subway
(I know it may not seem realistic, but yes, some people do in fact go to
Subway).
Intimate: massaging an oil into the skin of another human
being.
Great. Now let’s move on.
Situation B: I
ask an attractive female stranger to apply sunscreen to my back.
Possible Outcome #1: she declines
Very similar to
Possible Outcome #1 from Situation A, but now my mind is questioning whether or
not I’m pretty enough to be shirtless in the sun at all. Again, my
self-confidence falters, but to the point where I’m far too ashamed to ask
other attractive female strangers to lube up my back with suntan lotion.
Instead, I find a dark hole to go into where I die alone and pale. Sad face.
Possible Outcome #2: she accepts
My 13 year-old self’s dream come true. My back is lovingly
massaged with a perfect amount of sunscreen—enough to avoid ye olde skin
cancer, but not too much as to prevent my skin from turning a dashingly
handsome bronze. But now what? Walk away and miss an opportunity to talk to a
pretty girl? Papa Wolf would be so disappointed. So the better option would be
to just throw out my towel, lie down, and strike up a conversation? Knowing me,
the icebreaker would be something along the lines of, “so thanks for rubbing me
down, that was great.” Somehow I don’t think that will end well.
Situation C: I
ask an unattractive female stranger to apply sunscreen to my back.
Possible Outcome #1: she declines
My skin burns while I find a nicer unattractive girl to rub
lotion onto my back.
Possible Outcome #2: she accepts
Yada yada yada… Ugly babies.
So what’s a poor boy to do? Except to sing for a rock ‘n’
roll band, that is.
(cough)
Anyway, I’ve been lubing myself up for the better part of
two weeks now, but it’s still not easy. Doing the shoulders and lower back is a
cinch, but that whole middle region of no-man’s land is in constant danger of
burning. The best I can do is dab lotion on the very tips of my fingers, reach
as far back as possible, and pray. Some desperate finger-clawing-for-that-last-inch-of-skin
always ensues before all the white can be rubbed in, but hey—it’s worked out
fine so far. Time, effort, patience, and the occasional mirror is all it takes.
Best of all: no more awkward moments or ugly babies for me.
Life is good.
JHW
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