NEW: Another Tanless Summer by Chris Brennan

Labor Day has come and gone, strongly hinting to us that our glorious summer is almost over. Our Fantasy Football line ups are in place, our summer sun has started to retire into the night a bit earlier, and our kids have put the finishing touches on their Trapper Keepers, readying for another year of school. (Kids still use Trapper Keepers right? Anyone?) 

Personally for me, Labor Day is a yearly reminder of failure. Once again I have failed to turn my pasty Irish skin into the kind of tan I have always wanted. You see, it's my goal every June, that "this is the year" that I will finally be able to remove my shirt in public, without screams of "turn that off!" eminating from the masses. 

As a native Californian, the pressure to be tan has been fairly constant. I remember being 6 years old, and having someone comment on how my freckles "looked weird". Thankfully, a nice girl in my class named Lucy came to my rescue by declaring that without my freckles I would look "even weirder".( Ahhh kids!) As I grew older, this became more troublesome, for I loved swimming and I loved the beach, but I was never keen to go through juggernaut of inevitable comments that came with me unveiling my skinny, pale "bod" to my peers. Most of the time, they were already romping in the pool or in the surf, while I was frantically trying to apply my 140 spf sunblock. (I might as well have been wearing a turtleneck and jeans.)

Although being pale in any part of California is a bit awkward, being pale in a beach town is really tough. I have lived in Belmont Shore for over 3 years, and I am still having a hard time with it. A simple walk down 2nd street becomes a blaring reminder that I will never be a bronzed god. Hordes of young scantily clad teenagers parade up and down the street without a care in the world, clueless to the agonizing amount of time I have spent debating if today was actually hot enough for me to brave wearing shorts.(It was, and I did. A minor triumph!) 

I am certainly aware of the fact that I can remedy my insecurity in a number of ways. However, I am simply not disciplined enough to apply fake tanning cream for any extended period of time, and I am also unwilling to sit in a tanning booth that gives me the feeling of being a pod person. I should disclose at this time, that once I actually did try to go to a tanning booth, and the nice tan lady behind the counter recommended my first session take "not more than 3 minutes". I went for 4 minutes, and got burned. 

I realize that this is mostly my "issue" and I am intent on conquering it. For starters, I can draw inspiration from the diversity of Long Beach itself, which is a veritable melting pot of personalities, colors, and body art. What I love most about this place is its acceptance of all types of people. If Long Beach is willing to accept me, it's about damn time that I started accepting myself.