In 2007, I made a life-altering decision that took mere seconds to execute. One quick phone call, a brief acknowledgment of “Oh, okay, thank you,” and a scribble on a notepad was all it took to end a habit that had consumed nearly two decades of my life. It’s astounding how effortlessly I managed to walk away from something I had pursued relentlessly for about 15 years. While friends spent weeks deliberating over car purchases or scrolling endlessly through hairstyle options, I quit tanning as easily as I would turn off a running tap.
I grew up in the era of Teen magazine and Tiger Beat, where electric blue mascara and tight-rolled jeans were the norm. My fair skin, green eyes, and reddish-blonde hair set me apart, but all I wanted was a golden glow. At the tender age of 12, armed with baby oil, a battery-powered radio, and a folding lawn chair, I would scour the lawn for the sunniest spot. My routine consisted of flipping every 30 minutes like a rotisserie chicken, driven by a relentless desire to achieve that coveted tan.
As a teenager, I had no idea I was conditioning my skin for future damage. I transitioned from baby oil to Hawaiian Tropic tanning lotion, yet my quest for the perfect tan remained unfulfilled. After graduating in 1992, I started using tanning beds, despite my initial fears about their dangers. But the allure of that sun-kissed look won out, and soon I was lying in a tanning bed up to four times a week. By 2007, my visits stretched from February to October.
What many don’t realize is that tanning can be addictive. I didn’t just enjoy the experience; I was hooked. The scent of tanning accelerator became my favorite aroma, rivaling even the smell of fresh-baked donuts. That unique fragrance, a mix of coconut oil and other ingredients, became synonymous with success for me. Unfortunately, the redness of my skin became a permanent fixture, developing into tan lines that were a testament to my dedication.
Despite having two children in 2001 and 2002, I continued my tanning ritual, letting my kids know me as the woman with perpetually red skin. It wasn’t until my best friend, Sarah, pointed out a dark mole on my arm one day in 2007 that my life took a dramatic turn. Her concern prompted me to visit the doctor, where I learned that my seemingly harmless mole was melanoma. Within a week, I underwent surgery to have it excised, leaving me with a scar that serves as a constant reminder of how close I came to losing everything.
After that fateful day, I quit tanning for good. I stopped buying sessions and even gave away my remaining visits. I began applying sunscreen daily, and I became a vigilant protector of my children’s skin. Since my diagnosis, I’ve had multiple skin checks and treatments, including several bouts with basal cell carcinoma. My dermatologist recommended using Efudex, a topical chemotherapy, to treat precancerous spots. This is a treatment I wouldn’t have needed had I not subjected my skin to the harsh UV rays for so long.
While my journey could have been far more tragic, I consider myself lucky. I’m part of a community where stories of loss and struggle are far too common. Each skin check brings more bad news, yet I know I drastically reduced my chances of further melanoma by quitting tanning. I acknowledge my past foolishness and vanity, but now, in 2023, I embrace my pale skin and cherish the summers spent protecting my children from harmful rays, knowing they’ve only ever known me as a sunscreen advocate.
Summary:
My journey from a tanning addict to a melanoma survivor serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of tanning. After years of damaging my skin, a friend’s intervention saved my life. Now, I am committed to safeguarding my skin and that of my children, ensuring they never have to face the consequences of my past choices.