This title might seem strange for those who know me. Of course you don't have a tan, they're thinking. You avoid the sun like a vampire, wear hats while gardening and stay indoors when it's too hot. All this is true. My eyes tend to shy away from the light, and my skin feels burned even when snowshoeing on a sunny January day. And yet I've been loving the light tan that appeared on my face over the last year or so. I've never liked my pale, occasionally mottled complexion which reddens with every laugh and cough. And then I had cataract surgery in one eye.
This morning I stood in front of the bathroom mirror to conduct an experiment. Shutting my new robot eye (I love the concept...don't disillusion me with facts) I stared at myself and saw the same me I've seen for the last few years. Lightly tanned in spite of sunscreen and large hats. But I closed my unenhanced eye and there was my true face. Wan like sour yogurt, and splotchy from sleeping on my side.
I wasn't tan. The cataracts had given everything a yellow tint. Well, crap. What happens when the other eye is roboticized? Will I react like my aunt who phoned her daughter and said, 'They did something to my face while I was asleep, and now I have wrinkles!'
I try to eat healthy, exercise regularly, and keep a positive attitude in spite of the angry trajectory of the world. It's like a boulder rolling down hill--you can't escape it no matter where you run. But still, I try. Many mornings I jump out of bed like a really annoying gym teacher and occasionally even clap my hands.
Perhaps that's why I attempt little fixer uppers like the one I tried yesterday. My eyes have been plagued with a feeling of pressure. I wondered, is it the sagging skin hanging over my eyelids? I'm not at the 'My eyes are dim, I cannot see,' stage, so it seemed best to experiment.
With the same medical tape I use to keep my mouth shut at night (see former post, Shut Your Mouth) I used a piece to lift the skin above my lids. I'd been walking around like that for about ten minutes when the doorbell rang. Quickly, I ripped the tape off and rushed to the door to find my neighbor holding a chainsaw. (We are both deeply committed to the health our our neighborhood trees.)
"Well, darn," I said. "It's just you...I could have left the tape on." I explained the situation, and, having been my neighbor for sixteen years, he didn't even blink.
And now I must adjust my view of things as they take on a whiter shade of pale. If I find a cure for eye pressure, I'll be sure to let you know. In the meantime, I'll brace myself for the second eye surgery. It's painless, but the truth it reveals is not. As Jimmy Cliff sang, 'Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind, it's going to be a bright, sunshiny day.' But I still won't have a tan.
