This has been a typical family gathering weekend. It starts with a plate of cookies and bowl of chips never more than 5 feet away, a chaise lounge just waiting for us to sit on it , an endless stack of magazines to read-discuss-get grossed out by (Maxim=barf. Tom Cruise= crazy. Lindsay Lohan= way too thin), and children climbing on Uncle D.
Midway through Star and US magazines, we look up and remind our husbands to put more sunscreen on and they pretend to not hear us. We give each other the all knowing eye and trade magazines.
The sun starts hiding behind the hills, the chocolate cake comes out and somebody's (ok, mine) husband asks if his forehead looks red. What I want to say: Yes, you idiot! It started looking red hours ago when I told you to put more sunscreen on and you rolled your eyes at me. Pass the cake. But what I really say: Yes, honey, it is a little red. Want some aloe?
I'm just not getting why men won't ever re-apply sunscreen. What is the deal with that? As if they are so special that the sun won't get to them or that the sunscreen magically works better on them even after sweating and swimming. Tell either of us that we're getting red and we'd be putting on a hat, sweatshirt, and applying SPF 85 to our faces faster than a plate of cookies disappears around here.
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