Skin Deep

I was waiting in line for coffee when I noticed the woman staring at me. Curious, I held her gaze until she shuffled a bit before blurting out, “You have pretty skin.”


There was a time when that compliment was rare, even unheard of. Growing up, if I caught someone staring at me, they would have done so because of my skin tone.

A polite term for what I am is pale. My grandmothers used to call it “alabaster.” The kids I grew up with called me “dead” or “super white” or “like a corpse.” I am so fair that I can see veins underneath my skin. I have never had a tan, and even the fake tan products can’t help me.

Growing up, I wanted nothing more than a tan. I would spend hours outside in the summers between sixth and eighth grades, with my beach towel spread on the lawn and me poured into a bikini in hopes of getting a golden glow. Despite my best efforts, I would end up pink or red if the sunburn were bad. Then, just as quickly, I would fade back to white. I hated the first day back to school, when my classmates were bronze and I was still “like a corpse.”

The worst part of being so fair was the questions. Why was I so white? Didn’t I tan? Why not try a tanning bed? Or makeup? As if I wanted to be so pale.

I finally gave up on the tanning quest after an eighth grade physical. I asked my doctor why I was so pale, and he did a great job of patiently explaining to me about melanin and skin cancer and sunscreen. Terrified of the word cancer after my grandfather’s death from the disease, I immediately started wearing sunscreen whenever I was outside—a habit that continues to this day.

The name calling stopped after I “embraced the pale,” but there was still a part of me that longed for a tan. Bronzed skin seemed so beautiful and healthy. But then I went away to college and met and noticed people like me. Fair skinned, alabaster, pale. I was no longer alone. I started getting compliments instead of taunts.

And now we’ve come full circle. Thanks to Twilight and True Blood, pale skin is “in.” The trait that caused me so much grief growing up is coveted. It may have taken vampires to make it acceptable, but I’ll take it if it means another kid won’t be teased for not having a tan.

As for me, I’m doing fine with the paleness. I still avoid the sun and religiously wear sunscreen. I have few wrinkles or lines, and I still get carded from time to time. Someone told me the other day that “there’s no way you can be 30.” I’m not—I’m 36. I’ll take it.