now i'm not talking a light spray tan once a week, this was serious addiction. it began when i relocated to the north west for uni, and influence of Liverpool began to creep in.
where i'm from, the height of sophistication are those fleeces with the pictures of wolves on you get at the market, (my nana has 2) and although i'd always been into like fashion etc, espec having been an emo teen, as soon as i came up here, something went PING in my head.
coming to a catwalk near....hell
first crept in the changes in hair colour. everyone dyes their hair, but scouse girls go for INTENSE colours, theres no creamy blondes or subtle undertones here. those with mousy hair and attitude need not apply. i hit the bleach hard, then red, then brown to fix the red, then highlites to fix the brown, then auburn to fix the highlites...you get the idea. each new dye required new extensions, so i was walking around with half of ching-long's hair clipped onto my skull. and this was for my everyday look.
and then i went into tk maxx...and they had a bottle of fake bake reduced. its like when a junkie needles the first vein, just to try it, they're not going to get hooked or anything, they have the control.
fast forward 2 months and i'm getting up at 5am to reapply tan reagrdless of the layer i'd put on before bed, and then slapping on instant stuff to leave the house. money flies out my hand, a tanning mitt here, exfoliator there, i have to buy 5 different foundations depending on my level of tan and lie to my mum about the amount of empty bottles lying guiltily in the bin. IT WAS NOT A GOOD TIME FOR ME.
my sheets looked like burt reynolds had been given the godfather treatment as he slept, and if i ever stayed with any ,ahem, friends i had to pre-warn them that all that would be left in the AM was a tangerine residue and the lingering aroma of digestives.
the moment of clarity came when one charming (read irritating) friend, J, compared me to the colour of a conker. this lovely comment combined with breaking out in what i can only describe as hives from the tan formula and buying the stuff with my rent funds signalled something may be wrong. so i've been drying out over the last month, and am now albino once more. clinique doesn't make a foundation light enough for my skin, so i've had to go with fellow pale convert Nicola Roberts range Dainty Doll.
when i went to Liverpool yesterday, stripped of my full armour, i felt like a bald chicken amoungst the sea of heels, extensions and orange flesh . you have to admire the scouse girls for their dedication, especially for believing tutu's and bras are suitable day attire...but i'm done with the fakery. its time for everyone just to see the real you and me. until next summer that is. x
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