I am a big advocate of sunscreen. I have not always been this way. Only recently have I come to realize that dying from a cancer that is entirely preventable would be a really fucking stupid way to go. Of course, having said that, I'll now probably be diagnosed with skin cancer within a month, given my track record with the universe.

Actually, back in the fall I did think I was dying of skin cancer because a mole on my back had changed somewhat and had me totally freaked out. I got it checked by a dermatologist, who said he thought it was not abnormal but rather undergoing normal changes that come with age. "As you age, your moles age with you. You're just now at the age where you may begin to notice this. Your moles might change, or even disappear. As you age, you might even get new moles. You should always check them, but know that changing moles can be normal with aging." Could he have said AGE any more times?! I get it - I am fucking OLD. Bastard.

Still, to be safe, he documented the shape and size of my mole so that he would have data with which to compare it at my next appointment. He did this documentation very scientifically - he took a photo of it with a Polaroid. He also measured the mole using a very precise dermatology tool, a piece of cardboard with different sized holes cut out of it.

Anyway. Point is, my geriatric shape-shifting mole convinced me that perhaps sunscreen is a good idea. And I have been trying to pass this wisdom on to others. I have been preaching especially hard to my brother, who's spending a lot of days outside for his summer job. I ask him pretty much every time I see him if he's wearing sunscreen. I continue to ask him because his answer continues to be no. Finally last week, quite frustrated, I demanded, "Why NOT?!" I expected him to say that he just forgets, or it's too much of a nuisance, or that none of the other guys at work do it and he would feel stupid. Instead, he said, "It's just...you can't get a tan if you're wearing sunscreen."

I blinked. "You're worried about your tan?"

"Well yeah. I mean, I look better tan." I rolled my eyes. "Everyone does," he added, looking pointedly at my bare, untanned legs.

So then over the weekend Rob and I were getting ready to stain our deck. We had changed into our old painting clothes, and I began slathering SPF 50 all over myself. I offered some to Rob, but he declined. "Not yet. I'll put some on later."

"Rob. Put It On."

"No, I want to get a little sun first."

"Why?"

"Well I don't want to be pale." He said this as if being pale were the equivalent to having herpes. Or being Republican.

"We are working during the worst part of the day - between 10 and 2! You need sunscreen."

"Just a little while. Then I'll come in and put some on."

He was wearing a heavy tshirt with sleeves almost down to his elbows, so I gave in. "Fine."

But as he walked toward the door, he stripped off his shirt.

"What are you doing?!"

"What?"

"You're going out to work in the sun, without sunscreen, with No Shirt?!"

"Well I want an even tan," he said to me in his Duh Voice.

My god, I had no idea boys were so vain.