The Long-Awaited, Overly Specific, and Probably Really Unhelpful Self-Tanning Guide

Pretty much everyday, I find myself reading a new self-tanning guide in some form of periodical (fashion magazine, newspaper, emergency landing informational pamphlet on an airplane, etc), and all of these self-tanning guides hail themselves as the new and unmatched self-tanning Gospel, but they always say the exact same thing as the guide I read the day before--Be sure to exfoliate for 40 days and 40 nights before getting near a bottle of tanner, ladies!--and not much else, and god I'm just so sick of them.

But just in case you haven't read one today, here's my lazy, unpretentious, unexfoliated, way-too-much-information, normal person self-tanning guide:

--I take showers at night, and only tan my legs after shaving, which I like to think is the same as exfoliating my legs without the actual add-on of another shower chore (I spend most of my time in the shower excitedly brainstorming essay ideas, so I don't have time for all that other stuff).

--After I get out of the shower, I moisturize my face, and rub a bit of moisturizer into my knees and ankles. This helps me avoid the dreaded Brown Joint Syndrome. --I put on some cute undies (too much info yet? don't worry, it gets worse) I don't mind lounging around in for awhile, then apply self-tanner to my legs (for my brand recommendations, click here). I'm actually not too careful around my knees, as I feel I have taken all necessary precautions with the pre-moisturizing. Well, that and I am lazy.

--I then do a really unflattering crab-style walk (my thighs really enjoy each other's company and all, but like hell they're gonna mess up my tan) to the nearest sink and wash my hands immediately to avoid the stained palm look that Lindsay Lohan was constantly rockin' about a year ago. --Finally, I crab walk back to my bedroom, grab a mindless magazine, and plunk down onto the bed for about a half hour to chill and dry (sure, the good tanners dry in five minutes or less, but it's an excuse to hang out in cute undies and read tabloid trash). My extremely professional and alluring strategy to not smear my tan in this process is to plop down on the bed on my back--a substantial plop, straight to back from standing position, the kind that lifts your legs up in the air--and then slowly lower my legs down, knees bent slightly, so just the untanned bottoms of my feet are touching the bed (You might want to put away your $1200 Egyptian sheets if you are attempting the bed plop, just in case). It all looks extremely graceful (not) and sounds kind of dirty written out, but I swear that this method has left me with many a successful leg tan.

--After allowing my tan to dry and getting all caught up on the new ways Britney is ruining her children's lives, I go to bed like a schoolgirl on Christmas eve, super-excited to wake up in the morn with a golden glow!

So there you go. One of the most unhelpful self-tanning guides ever written, to be sure, but you can't say it wasn't original.

p.s. Does anyone else have a weird self-tanning ritual, or is it just me?

Well, me and this guy...