i get a lot of crap about my intense addiction to diet coke from readers, concerned friends, parents of concerned friends, and medical professionals. but there is another more dangerous habit i'm currently dabbling in.

the tanning bed.

now don't get me wrong, fake baking and i go way back. in high school, due to the charming combination of my naturally fair skin and our white cheerleading uniforms, i visited the tanning salon 2 or 3 times a week during football season. but as i graduated, i pledged to leave my sinful ways behind.

unfortunately, tanning has become a sort of cult phenomenon at OU. and come mid-winter or even mid-fall, when my natural golden glow has long since faded, i hate to be the pasty girl in a sea of pretty dark skin.

so i went back to my old boyfriend, the human microwave.

my first time back, i shamefully slipped into the salon, averting my eyes from the other customers. but as i clicked the lock on my tanning room door, i quickly fell back into the old routine. after a good 10 to 15 minutes of undressing, lotioning, thorough self-examination in the full length mirror, adjustment of the radio, and application of those stylish little goggles, i settled into the tanning bed. i switched on the machine and started my usual distraction techniques, desperate not to focus on the fact that my skin cancer was likely growing skin cancer at that very moment. i played the clench-every-muscle-in-your-body-one-at-a-time game, the sing-with-abandon-along-to-the-radio game, and finally, the passing-out game.

when i woke up, the bed was off. and freezing cold. i jumped for my cell phone, to discover that i had taken a 30+ minute nap in the cancer coffin. just another sign of my narcolepsy at work? or the strange, hypnotic power of the glowing bulbs and their rays of death?

i dressed in a record 30 seconds and was back in my car in half that time. i'm swearing off the tanning bed for life.

pasty and proud.