Janine vs. The Tanning Bed

So I’m just going to say this right now…I love tanning. I really do. It’s like a warm cocoon of relaxation that also happens to make me prettier. I don’t feel that I tan excessively; I’m not one of those leather-faced girls who look 84 years old in spite of being a freshman in college. But I do like a little bronze to my skin. It looks better than the shockingly white alternative…trust me.

Anyway, that being said, my tale today starts at my tanning salon of choice, Amazing Rayz. I go to AR both to tan and to get my nails done…so the staff there knows me pretty well. I’m a “regular,” as it were. Yesterday, however, I went to tan after work, and the girl working was new. She didn’t know me, and I didn’t know her. I don’t know if that really matters or not, but it might. I can’t decide.

Anyway…I got in the tanning bed and did my tanning session without incident. It’s a pretty routine thing, you know…it doesn’t require a lot of work. Mostly…I lay there. Sometimes, if I’m feeling frisky, I’ll do some crunches in the bed…you know, just to shake things up a bit.

Yesterday, though, was crunch free, and I got out of the bed when the time was up. I’d gotten about halfway dressed—I had my pants, socks and shoes on, and I picked up my shirt. Instead of putting it on, I had to adjust something else, and I set the shirt down on the top of the tanning bed. I have done this I don’t know how many times…it’s just…something I do. Well…yesterday was the last time I will do that. As soon as I set my shirt down, it slid over the top of the tanning bed and down to the floor on the other side. The side that is all but flush with the wall. Yeah.

So my shirt was between a ten thousand pound tanning bed and the wall. Freaking out, I immediate climbed inside the tanning bed, to see if I could reach between the gap that is there between the top and the bottom of the bed. The gap is big enough, roughly, for a 7 year old girl to fit her arm in there, so needless to say, I didn’t have any luck. I thought that maybe if I closed the top of the bed, I would be able to open the gap up a little bit more, so I closed the lid, which ended up kind of slamming shut, probably because I grabbed it with panic induced force. My plan was a bust, though, because really…then the gap was only big enough for an 8 year old girl to reach through. I wasn’t in a good place, emotionally. What was I going to do?? I finally resigned myself to the fact that I would have to just put my coat on and go out into the world…when I realized that I didn’t even HAVE a coat!! Stupid Wyoming spring weather! One day you have a coat, the next day you don’t…and just when you REALLY need one. I would rather walk through a blizzard without a coat than walk out into the lobby of Amazing Rayz without a shirt! Ugh!

So, I decided that I would have to go at it from a different angle. I moved the end table at the end of the bed, and the fan beside it, and I shimmied into the space between the head of the bed and the other wall. Mind you, it’s not a big space…so I was in there pretty tight. I leaned around the bed and spotted my shirt, but when I bent over to get it, I couldn’t reach. I lifted up one leg and leaned down even farther, wedged now, between the bed and the two walls, and still couldn’t reach my shirt. AND…I was a little bit stuck. Stuck, with one leg up, and my body squished between a rock and freaking hard place, aka, tanning bed. WHAT THE CRAP??? Who does this happen to? Sandra Bullock, maybe, in her latest 400 million dollar blockbuster, but not to REAL people…right? Wrong. It happened to me.

So…I kind of twisted myself around and saw that there was a spray bottle full of cleaner that they use to clean the beds. I thought, “maybe I can use that to sort of hook my shirt and drag it over to me!” So, I wrenched myself out of the corner and grabbed the bottle. I got back INTO position, and reached for the shirt with the bottle. Of COURSE the lid to the bottle wasn’t screwed on. It started pouring cleaner all over my freaking shirt. Of FREAKING course. So, I grabbed the bottle, and screwed the lid on properly, so that the remaining tablespoon of liquid wouldn’t pour out on top of the gallon that had already poured out. I finally hooked my shirt and drug it over to me. I grabbed it, gave it a spanking, and put it on.

Instead of being unpleasantly damp, it was pretty much soaked…but don’t worry…the majority of the moisture was located in my armpits. Sweet.

I moved all of the furniture back into position, and then with what remaining pride I had, I walked out of the room. I’m sure that I looked disheveled and ridiculous, not to mention that I had soaking wet armpits…all of which, I’m sure, made the tech who was working…the one who doesn’t know me at all…think that I probably tanned fully clothed. I didn’t bother to correct her assumption…I just walked out…and enjoyed a cool breeze on my still wet upper torso.

Final Score, Tanning Bed 1—Janine 0.