When the comment trolls come out to play, they generally focus their attacks on several expected topical targets: I’m fat, I’m ugly, I have horrible hair, I have too many clothes, I’m a self-righteous ass, I have atrocious taste and no right to call myself a style expert. These things, I expect. Especially after nearly four years of blogging and a lifetime of experience with bullying. But the supposed-insult that throws me for a loop every time? I should get a tan.
A TAN, people. I am too pale to be fashionable. My reputation would be much improved if I hit the beach or the tanning salon. Or just got off my pasty white butt, walked to Walgreens, and invested in some self-tanner.
I shouldn’t be so dumbfounded by this. Skin color and shade are charged topics, and people all over the world seek to lighten or darken their skin tones through artificial means. While I’m all for taking steps toward crafting a look that suits your personality and tastes, the idea of tinkering with skin color unnerves me. Utilizing clothing to define your figure, hair color to highlight your features, nail polish to embellish your fingers and toes, even tattoos and piercings to express your creativity … none of these things set off warning alarms. But skin color is different somehow.
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