Yesterday I was talking with Annika, my boyfriend's mom (is it okay to call her my mother-in-law even though John and I are not married? I do it anyway.) and we talked about getting a tan. More as in... why I still do not have one.
So I thought I would exercise it. Not even sure if that is a suitable phrase to use in this context. I went to the pool this morning, brought with me a book to prolong my stay. There were some people by it already, only two in the actual water. Older women, mostly moms and moms' moms, in the loungers and two dads or swimming instructors with a boy each in the pool. For some reason it seems that no girls needs to learn how to swim, I have never seen one in the pool with an instructor. I took my place in a lounger, headed to the pool and jumped in. Water was really nice, but a bit cold just at the start. I swam a few lengths before I tired, since I find swimming alone is no fun and I started to miss John.
Back in the lounger I pulled the chair out a bit more to get sun all over the legs, made sure the face was in shadow. I forgot to bring sunscreen, so I wanted to at least protect my face. To my right there were some French women, looking brownish in positions where the sun was all over them. To my left were a small family; the mother was very tanned, father brown only from body-hair and a small child hidden from the sun in every way, with a wet-suit-thing and a cute hat. I started reading my book, thinking I would finish it before I went back to the apartment for lunch.
The book was boring and I could not keep focus. Instead I watched the people around me. A woman my age came down, pushed the lounger so it was fully in the sun. She smeared coconut oil all over her already very tanned body, the smell was strong and intrusive, and she opened a book and reads. I read because I like it, because I enjoy the book (unfortunately just not this one) but I got the feeling from her that she was just doing it to have something to do while tanning. She was a pro tanner. Hair up in a ponytail, a cap (not sunglasses, they will leave marks around your eyes) bikini as tiny as possible. Now and again she would turn around or go to the pool, cool down for a minute and head right back to business with the sun. I could not look away, I was amazed.
This woman probably came down every day to work on her tan, help it out with oils and stayed in the sun for, much likely, several hours. And I sat there wondering why. Why would she do that? Why was it necessary to get a tan? It was a nice colour, but so is being extremely pale, like a porcelain doll, or deep brown like chocolate (and any other skin-colour). I started to question why I was there. Had I fallen for the stereotype; Caucasian women in tropical countries should have a golden tan? I remembered a line from my book:
The people on the beach who desperately lay lifeless on towels.
I had to get away. In the middle of the last chapter I took my things and walked very purposefully back to the apartment. I would not be one of them because I did not care. The tone of my skin is not my concern, I am comfortable being pale, as well as being tanned, but I was not going to waste my time trying so hard. Sure, it can be nice to lay around doing nothing (or perhaps reading) but it is not me. I enjoy going down for a swim and maybe stay in the sun to dry, but I would not stay to "work for a tan". I do not care about a tan.After a year and four months in Singapore I have not seen a huge different in my skin-tone. I will not push it, I will not work hard for it, simply because I do not care. This expectation of being tan needs to stop. I can only imagine people back home in Sweden, when I eventually go to visit them, seeing me and questioning why I am not tanned. Where you not in the tropics? Why are you still so pale?
I will look them in the eyes and say...
I do not care about being tan.
