So I’m headed to LA this weekend. As in Los Angeles California not Louisiana. There’s a conference there for Beachbody & since I’m a new coach I thought it’d be good to attend all of the training I possibly can because I want to do this right. I want to soak up as much knowledge & information as I can so I can be the best coach possible. Ok it’s 20 degrees here & I just want to go to California- sue me!

So it dawned on me that southern California people are very pretty.They are tall & tan & fit & pretty- at least that’s what I imagine. So in my haste to look more “Califonia-y” I bought some spray tan in a bottle. Because I am pale, people. I mean lilly white, baby’s butt pale. I am a mountain girl now. No beaches here in Colorado. So in order not to scare anyone of the pretty California people I figured I’d better get a bit of color on my legs.

Well. The asshole that invented the spray can must be a contortionist & a professional paint sprayer. I turned & twisted & tried to reach all my parts. First of all the nozzle was clogged & spit & made funny sounds & I couldn’t possibly reach my back. I seriously look like a spotted leopard or like I have some disease.
And yes Im aware theres tanning LOTION. Now.

Also- my dog Gus lays in the bathroom while I shower & wouldn’t move when I started spraying so now he has a spray tan too.

I guess I’ll embrace my paleness, my mountain-esque coloring, my fair skin & freckles. There’s a lot worse things to be than pale. LA could not possibly be as scary as how I must’ve just looked in the bathroom. As my daughter would say “first world problem, Mom”.


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