The New Yorker does a funny on SPF numbers. The point got lost for me after a while but these three are spot on.
SPF 4—You’re joking, right? This is some kind of joke? 4? We make this stuff for armadillos. Or maybe you’re one of those “adrenaline junkies” looking for another freakish way to court death. Seriously, people, the sun is deadly. It’s a giant ball of fire, literally, and it will kill you . . . if you let it.
SPF 12—Great for practical jokes, if your idea of funny is making someone think they are protected from the sun’s seriously fucking powerful and harmful rays when they’re actually not. Bonus: Comes with an “I AM, OR ONE DAY WILL BE, A DANGEROUSLY NEGLECTFUL PARENT” visor.
SPF 30—Perfect for driving all night through a rainstorm.
And if you don't already know, tanning beds have been confirmed as cancer risks, right up there with ciggies.
People who tan are just like people who smoke. Actually they're worse. Smokers know that they're getting in deep shit, putting all that crap into their bodies. But they can't or don't want to quit, so they become resigned to whatever comes along and simply stop thinking about it.
People who willingly bake in the sun, as in lie there for the sole purpose of turning darker, don't seem to find anything wrong with it. Just cos they're skimpily clad and typically beside a body of chlorinated or salted water, they get the idea that what they are doing is healthy.
I bet they'd be shocked if you tell them there's no difference between them and smokers.
I know someone who goes tanning every weekend. She is perpetually sunburnt. But she's a SPG and she thinks her tan makes her look hot. Well. I don't know what she sees in the mirror but when I look at her, especially her crepey 26-year-old decolletage, I get mental shivers as I see a huge piece of textured leather.
She'd probably make a good handbag.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment