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The Complex Dance with Beauty: A Journey Through Spray Tanning
“Hold up your arms,” directs the technician as I stand bare in a tiled booth, feeling a chill penetrate my skin. Complying, I brace myself for what comes next. She raises a device reminiscent of a vintage dust-buster and unleashes a chilling spray that coats me in a thick layer of brown bronzer, its peculiar scent oddly reminiscent of tomato soup.
As summer sizzles in Southern California, I find myself indulging in an age-old desire: the sun-kissed glow associated with the iconic show Baywatch. This yearning represents more than just a desire for a tan; it embodies a longing for an aesthetic that symbolizes beauty, fitness, and the leisurely lifestyle of sun-drenched days filled with coastal adventures. Growing up in the 1990s, the epitome of beauty was often characterized by sun-kissed skin, leading many, including myself, to struggle with feelings of inadequacy in a world that appeared to favor the tanned. The elusive tan became a symbol of beauty and desirability, deepening the insecurities that many women carry.
Today, many women share a pursuit of beauty, often seen as both a vice and a form of empowerment. While some might argue that engaging with beauty standards fosters community and understanding, this endeavor can sometimes feel like a double-edged sword. The quest for beauty, despite its communal aspects, arises from the oppressive standards that society imposes on women. The act of striving for an ideal often places us in a cycle of validation through appearance, one that doesn’t necessarily free us from underlying struggles.
This isn’t my first venture into the world of spray tanning; over the past five summers, I’ve committed both time and finances to attain a specific aesthetic. The monthly fee for my tanning membership is just part of a larger investment in various beauty treatments, from hair color to injectables. As I transitioned into adulthood, I shifted my focus from subtle creams to more dramatic options, believing that significant changes could provide the remedy for my perceived flaws. This belief is deeply ingrained in our culture, where the notion of “pain is beauty” is perpetuated by industries that profit from feelings of inadequacy.
The phenomenon of “pretty privilege” illustrates the societal advantages enjoyed by those who fit conventional standards of beauty. Research indicates that attractive individuals are more likely to receive job offers and promotions and are often viewed more positively in moral judgments based solely on appearance. This scrutiny helps explain why Americans invest billions annually in their looks, viewing beauty not only as an asset but also as a means to exert control over one’s identity—something that often feels elusive for many women.
Reflecting on the beauty standards of the Baywatch era, the media painted an ideal of thinness and perfection that felt both unattainable and paradoxically casual. Women were often criticized for their visible efforts to adhere to these standards, as tabloid culture exposed celebrities for their cosmetic enhancements while simultaneously chastising them for striving to achieve an impossible ideal. This narrative persists today, evident in the online discussions that constantly critique women’s choices, whether through praise or scorn.
As I continue the tanning process, following the technician’s instructions to pose and twist, I am eager yet acutely aware of the queasiness that accompanies this ritual. Once the procedure concludes, I find myself waiting in front of a fan—naked, sticky, and impatient. Beauty, it seems, comes with its own set of challenges, requiring meticulous care and management. The aftermath leaves me feeling like a tagged piece of flypaper, both uncomfortable and vulnerable.
In the hours that follow, the anticipation of removing the initial layer of bronzer becomes almost palpable. When I finally rinse off, the transformation is striking—the tan is a perfect, golden hue, undeniably artificial yet reminiscent of the sun-soaked promise I sought. I’ve embraced the role of C.J. Parker for a moment, yet beneath the surface, nothing essential has changed.
Despite the superficial enhancement, I remain rooted in my own reality, wrestling with the contradictions inherent in the beauty narrative. I knew, on some level, that a simple spray tan would not alter the complexities of my self-image or societal pressures. Yet for a brief period of time, I allowed myself to believe in the possibility of transformation, at least on the outside. As I pull out my phone to schedule my next appointment, I can’t help but wonder: is this pursuit of beauty a pathway to empowerment or merely a reflection of societal expectations that bind us?
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