I’m Your First Sunburn of the Season, And For The Next Month I Own Your Ass

Surprise! It’s me, your first sunburn of the season. I know, it’s a little soon, but I’m here, and quite frankly it’s too late to try and stop me, so you might as well just get used to it.

I can tell that you’re pretty unhappy right now, and look: I get it. You get one nice, mild, sunny day and you decide to spend it outside. That’s great! But next time you wish to relish in the beautiful weather, remember that I’m here to bring you down a peg. It’s not a big deal, I am simply the vessel for transporting your negative thoughts and feelings from intangible concepts in your head to physical representations on your body. Sorry not sorry!

Did you enjoy your time basking in the sun? Go to brunch with a friend? Take a walk in the park or maybe just run far, far away from all of your responsibilities? While these are completely normal and valid ways to feel joy for the first time in six months, they do not fly in my house. You will now have to take responsibility for your actions and accept your punishment of having a bright crimson-colored back for an undetermined amount of time.

But actually, in this case, having merely a discolored back wouldn’t be so bad. This time, I’m not just a little irritation on your shoulders or a semi-permanent flush on your chest. Get ready for: the great peeling.

I’m sure you didn’t forget about me. I’m the grossest part of a sunburn: skin shedding everywhere, flaking off in your bed and onto your clothes. I’m the aftermath of your bad decision, exposing you as a dummy who doesn’t wear sunscreen, forcing all of your spaghetti-strap sundresses out of the daily rotation and into the back of your closet. I also make it difficult for you to wear a bra as I sit on your shoulders, itchy, painful, reminding you to take your sun protection seriously on even the most mild of days now that you’ve ended up here.

Are you stressed out at the thought of my presence? Bam! I have now resulted in sunburn blisters, popping up on top of the already overexposed flesh and leftover skin. I’m on the top of your shoulders, the back of your ribcage, I’m everywhere. I’m Beetlejuice 2.0. How do you like me now?

I’m ruining your dating life, too. Now that you feel awkward getting naked in front of people, you will not be having sex for quite some time. Your prospects have shrunk down to exclusively those whose opinions you don’t care about, like one night stands or that one friends-with-benefits who is way more into you than you are into them. Honestly it doesn’t matter, because your romantic and sexual desires will lessen with every peeling and every painful shower, where washing your disgusting body will remind you what a trainwreck you are and why no one should ever date you in the first place.

Look on the bright side: at least it’s only spring, and now you’ve learned your lesson for when summer rolls around. What a convenient excuse this time! Except that due to global warming, the weather is going to become more and more unpredictable, and the first nice day of the year will start falling earlier and earlier. Let me know when you turn tomato red in January, and maybe then I’ll be satisfied with the “painful sunburn” shot to “worrying about skin cancer” chaser. Otherwise, I’ll be here, waiting and watching. Cheers!