It is I, the Oompa loompa

Dear readers,

The person writing this is not the Josefine you know and are so very fond of, but a slightly more Hollywoodized and much more orange version of her.

Yes people.
I've done it.
I've had a spray tan.

Now, before you avert your eyes in disgust and mime sticking your fingers down your throat contemplating my vanity, I will say in my defence that this was a first (and quite possibly a last), and that it was done as a favour to a friend who's learning how to, ehr, spray tan people.

It should be stated that with the exception of my rather thick and very dark eyebrows and my dire need for some serious IPL, I do display the stereotypical traits of the Scandinavian. My hair is dark blond (or, roughly and literally translated from Swedish "rat coloured"), my eyes are blue/green and my complexion is very very very fair. With a sort of pinkish tint to it.
An unflattering tint, and one that despite years of trying to condition my skin into thinking otherwise, does not tan well.
Or at all.

So when I got a call yesterday asking me if I would be at all interested in having somebody practising spray tanning technique on my pale and very unready for bathing suit season body, I of course said yes.
I could picture it in my mind; me on the beach, all tan and glowing and somehow through a diet consisting only of wine chocolate and cheese, seem to have lost 5 kilos.
It was glorious.
And, as I believe I disclosed, a figment of my imagination.

In reality it turns out that Scandinavian complexion + spray tan = a look most recently sported by Magda, Cameron Diaz's kooky landlady in "There's something about Mary".
Or in the loving words of fiancé as he walked in the door:
"Wow. It makes you look... older

Yeah.
On the bright side, I won't be made fun of at work tomorrow.


You know, cause I'm unemployed.


The end.