Invasion of the Red Indian

How can something most people take for granted, or even loathe, be so unattainable for me?
 
Having lived as the organic white banana for so many years, I was determined to get a tan this summer. My chance finally came last weekend, at the company boat trip. While every other white-skin-fanatic female colleague put on her SPF 150 sunscreen, I go to my good old SPF 4.
 
There is simply nothing more stupid than leaving your sunscreen lotion on the boat while you spend the day on the beach. I spent four-plus hours trotting water under the partly cloudy sky. But God knows what little time it takes for seawater to wash out sunscreen.
 
As soon as the first swipe of a towel across my face, I knew I was in for at least four days of excruciating pain. My face and entire upper body was the color of burning charcoal, only leaving behind the perfect cut out of my bikini top.
 
For four days, my blister-covered back kept me from sleeping, strands of hair felt like razor blades brushing against my back, my left eyelid was double the thickness of my right, my cheeks and nose was at a constant tone of RGB 240/50/180, children cry and adults gasp for air at the sight of me.
 
Today is day 5. Before the healing, there's the peeling. The bits of dead skin cells hanging on my clothes give the impression that I suffer from a dandruff problem and the constant itching and (hence) scratching suggest that I must be carrying some kind of contagious skin disease. So, still, children cry and adults gasp for air at the sight of me.
 
But what the hell, for the first time in my life I'm tanned. I give it a week and a half before it fades. Yes, on the organic white banana, tans fade.