All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Blinding Light MAG
Wearing a bikini under my clothes, I hesitantly walked into the neon-lit salon. The owner greeted me without looking up, while his orange-hued customers eyed me with suspicion. I had just returned from the Caribbean so the glow I sported came from Mother Nature, and they knew it. Within minutes, I was handed a contract stating that a number of bad things that could happen to me and, if they did, it was not the salon’s fault. I signed my name, evidence that I too was ready to join the ranks of the orange-hued. Even I was finding it hard to believe that I had just agreed to something that I had always claimed was risky, vain, and pointless. I was always the voice of reason, and now that voice was silent. I was about to enter a tanning booth.
Putting on a pair of weird red goggles with painted eyes, I settled into the tanning bed, which looked like a coffin. Lying there, I had anything but the peaceful thoughts I was told I would have. With each moment, I grew angrier at myself. Why was I lying in a box that my dermatologist specifically said would harm me? Why was I ignoring the warning that ultraviolet light causes skin cancer? Most of all, why had I allowed myself to be blinded by the media’s ideas of beauty? There was a simple, and stupid, answer: I wanted to look good for an upcoming dance.
Most of the time I was tanning, I was thinking of my life in 30 years. If I ended up with skin cancer, I’d be taken away from those I loved, people who would not care if I had a tan. Would my future husband and kids have to pay the price for me giving into peer pressure now?
At last, my eight minutes of tanning ended and I got up. As I was dressing, I stared in disgust at the bed I had just been in and then took a long, last look at the tanning salon. I knew I’d never come back. On my way out, I felt bad for the customers coming in. I knew they were the victims of peer pressure too, and I decided it was terrible that people felt they had to expose themselves to dangerous UV rays just to fit in. Passing a trash can, I threw out the red goggles with the eerie painted eyes. I was done with tanning salons.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 3 comments.
0 articles 0 photos 12292 comments