My first skincare catastrophe

An Ambre Solaire cautionary tale

I settled in with a bowl of Weet-Bix piled high with sugar and the kind of smug satisfaction only a successful con artist could know. Cartoons played, the house was quiet and I was queen of the remote.

But then The Young and the Restless came on and boredom set in… fast.

Not one to waste an afternoon, I began snooping. (Did I mention how much I loved being unsupervised?) And that’s when I found it, the bottle of Ambre Solaire. My old friend.

I’d used self-tanning lotion before. I considered myself something of an expert. (Narrator: She was not, in fact, an expert.)

I applied it good-n-thick to my face, arms and legs. Waited 10 seconds.

Nothing.

Applied another layer. Still nothing.

Weird. One more would do the trick.

Nope.

I gave up, wandered off to find new mischief and completely forgot about the self tan.

Several hours (and an episode of Huey’s Cooking Adventures) later, I heard tyres in the driveway. I flung myself onto the couch, slipping seamlessly into character: pale, weak, near-death Tenille.

My family walked in, took one look at me, and exploded into laughter. The kind of howling that steals your breath and bends your body in half.

I was confused. Offended, even. Didn’t they know I was unwell? I’d been (fake) sick all day!
Alone! 

Monsters!

“What have you done to your face?” asked Christine (my mother) between gasps for air.

“...Nothing,” I declared, with the confidence of a child who believes volume equals truth.

“Tenille. Look. In. The. Mirror.”

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a child who looks like they’ve been basted in caramel, rolled in Cheezel dust and left to marinate in their own bad decisions, but I have. Her name was me.

There was no rescue mission. My parents embraced the 'natural consequences' approach, and off I went into the world, seasoned and looking radioactive. People at school commented on my skin. My extended family commented on my skin. If it wasn’t considered impolite, I reckon strangers would’ve commented too.

I wouldn’t be a true millennial if I hadn’t been traumatised by the consequences of my own actions. Which is exactly why I never leaned into sunless tanning lotion.

Anyway, that was my glow-up gone wrong. A caramel catastrophe that lives rent-free in the trauma bank that is my memory.

These days, I leave the self-tanning to the professionals and stick to what I know: helping you feel good in your skin (without turning orange).

Thanks for reading, and for being here. Whether you’ve got your own childhood skincare horror story or you’re just here for the laughs, I’m glad we get to share these moments.

Until next time, wear sunscreen, avoid Cheezel tones and trust me with your skincare (not your tanning advice).

Chat soon besties!