In the Name of Ra

As I have mentioned/obsessed over, I will be journeying to Chicago tomorrow to return POD to her roots (and in no coincidence, get my own roots done by the best of the best hair colorist this side of the Mississippi). This of course means a lovely (i.e. looooong) visit with my mother, Capt Nutty. This also means that I will be spending this evening with some sunless tanner products.

As I’m sure many of you southern gals understand, to Capt Nutty pale skin equals unhealthy deathlike pallor. My mother is a devotee of the sun god, Ra. Her altar is a Florida beach where she can set her carcass to baking for a minimum of 6 hours per day. However, in her simultaneous worship of Oprah, Capt Nutty has learned that turning one’s skin to the color of espresso is not good for you. It may even make you wrinkly – the horror! To equal out her worship of her two idols, she compromises and puts sunscreen on her face – to hell with the rest of her body, what has it done for her lately?

Now, since Capt Nutty has been forced into exile in Chicago some 15 years ago (straight from 8 years in Palm Beach, Florida for which she still yearns), her voyages to her beach altar have been limited. All was dark and gloomy for Capt Nutty until the skies broke wide open and her god revealed to her the glories of tanning creams, sprays, gels and other goops. You should have seen the celebration she threw when one of those spray-on tanning booths opened around the corner from her – people still talk about the debauchery and reckless drinking of that little fete.

How does this affect me one might ask? Well, when not worshipping the sun gods, Capt Nutty is holding court as the Queen of Passive Aggressiveness. So if I should offer my sunless skin to her majesty, I will be met with such comments like “oh, white is a very ‘in’ color this year” or “did you know the spray tanning booth is offering a two for one special right now? Isn’t that fun? Want to go right now? Oh, come on! Let’s go! It’ll be fun” (I hear – “please, please ghost child, let them spray your naked fatness with some chemical that will turn your nail beds orange and fill your crevices with god knows what chemical”).

Now, I can handle a couple of these comments but when she starts appearing at my bedroom door with a bottle of Neutrogena Fun in the Sun tanning goop and a pair of rubber of gloves, I draw the line. This inevitably ends up with me snapping at Capt Nutty with a “FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I DON’T WANT ANY DAMN SELF-TANNER!” This of course of makes Capt Nutty break into tears and moan about how she just doesn’t understand why I’m soooooo mean to her. Which is always but always followed by “I would NEVER have said something like that to MY mother…..but then again I loved MY mother.” I obligingly spend the next two hours exclaiming her virtues and my true love of Capt Nutty.

So you see, it’s simply good planning to go ahead and make myself look like an orange piece of beef jerky and forestall any such breakdowns – cause frankly there will be plenty of breakdowns without me having to bring the sun into it. This also explains why I will be bringing my own case of Bud Light in the car for the voyage…damn, I wish I would have gotten POD her learner’s license - what the hell, she's got a good head on her shoulders, I'm letting her drive. I advise all who value their lives to avoid I65 tomorrow.

Well, gentle readers, don’t forget me while I’m gone - I will be returning on Wednesday, if I can last that long. Try to muddle through without me and please keep me in your idol prayers to Ra.