I was just looking at old photos and remembered how much I used to stress about being tan in the summer. Like, a deep, dark tan was my whole goal. Ugh, the hours I wasted in tanning beds, slathered in baby oil on the beach... I actually thought it looked GOOD. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self to just put on some damn sunscreen; she'd be thanking me now instead of battling these wrinkles. I remember the smell of Sun-In and lemon juice, baking my hair on the hood of my mom's car, convinced it was the height of beauty. Now I spend a fortune at the salon trying to counteract the damage I inflicted for that "perfect" summer look... why were we all in such a hurry to age ourselves?