Another Caucasian, Gary

I don’t tan. At least I don’t try to. I get a tan if I allow it to happen, but I don’t make a conscious effort. I’m sitting in my back yard right now watching my dog chew up something that isn’t food, and while I’m doing this I’m getting a little sun. A gal needs vitamin D, right? The sunscreen police would be cuffing me and hauling me to health jail if they were here right now, but I’m being a scofflaw. I’ll have to seek refuge pretty soon, though, because I enter lobster territory pretty fast.
Most of my social crowd would not be caught dead baring skin as white as this, unless they were mooning somebody or covertly mowing the back forty. I, however, try hard to embrace my whititude. I’m never sad when an accidental glow occurs, and I have a strange love of sandal lines on my summer feet, but I figure I’m naturally this color, so take me or leave me.

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