She Tanned 5 Days A Week Until She Got Two Types Of Skin Cancers At Age 20

#1

You can tell that from her skin that it isn't meant to have a bronzed glow naturally, that is. Her fair skin, blue eyes, or freckles probably give it away, but that never stopped her from trying to get tan.

She said "Get a base tan before vacation! You'll burn less," I recall the coppery tanning salon associates saying since early middle school. That base tan turned to a quest for an everyday tan, which developed into a 20-minute session in the lay-down bed or a eight-minute session in the stand-up bed at least five days a week.

She went to college in North Carolina, located right at the coast where beachwear was worn year-round. She'd lay out with my roommates, and compare our stomach shades at the end of each beach session to see who was darker.

#2

She hated my pale skin, wishing so badly that I could tan like everyone else. So, she started tanning. In between working, studying, and extracurriculars, she prioritized tanning multiple times a week. she'd feel a sense of relief seeing a photo a few weeks later with the proof of a tan kind of like an "A" on a test you assumed you flunked.

Fast-forward to my senior year of college: she was 20. For nearly a year, she had a pesky bump on the side of the bridge of my nose that I continually picked off. She would bleed incessantly, grow back with a vengeance, and then the cycle would repeat.

#3

During a physical She asked my doctor to remove it. "Does skin cancer run in your family?" she asked. A dermatologist appointment and a few biopsies later, she got the voicemail: "We need to discuss your results."

She said,"One phone call back sent me directly to the doctor: Basal Cell Carcinoma cancer on my face, melanoma on my leg. My heart sunk and I felt defeated. How could this happen to me of all people?

I was diagnosed with two types of skin cancer at the age of 20.

I remember my mom holding back tears on the phone and telling me everything would be okay, but it didn't remove the lump in my throat or the heaviness in my heart. My birthday was a few days away and classes for the first semester of senior year had just begun. I had a big test in my Public Relations class coming up. Frankly, I didn't have the time to worry about cancer. This was supposed to be an exciting time in my life, but my skin was failing me yet again."

#4

After a discussion with her dermatologist, plastic surgery was my best option due to how deep both places were and their locations on my body. A week later she was under the knife awake, but sedated. She could make our the sensation of the surgeon digging into my skin, smell the burning blood vessels, and feel the stitches. This was repeated two more times. Once on her face, then on her leg, and then another place on my back he was concerned about.

She cried,"I craved invisibility on campus, and I was afraid to be in the sunlight. I wore a bandage on each place. I was bruised, explaining what happened to me up to what felt like 10 times a day. It was brutally embarrassing because saying those "C" words stirred up varied feelings of detesting my skin. I was ashamed that this would happen to me the fair-skinned girl.

The shame came from knowing I was an ethnicity that couldn't sustain a tan. When I scrolled through social media and seemed to be the only pale, blonde female, it was defeating. I thought bronzed skin was the sign of someone sexy and confident."

Now, for the next two years, she has to go to a dermatologist every four to six months for a checkup. When she sees anything suspicious, her heart sinks, but I bring it to the doctor's attention immediately.

Looking back, she wishes someone had warned me or flat-out stopped me. A doctor, her mom (who tanned herself but has since quit), or even the salon associates, who you'd think you could trust. She was told that getting a base tan indoors outweighed the risks of burning in outdoor sunlight She thought that purposefully baking her skin was safer! Even worse? she paid for it.

Many of her college friends who saw firsthand what her surgery looked like tell her she's the reason they stopped going to tanning beds, or stopped baking in the sun all day. A statistic in physical form is similar to a smack in the face you can't avoid it.

She claimed "Since that first phone call, I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot safely or realistically tan. I've since moved to New York City and although I'm not in a beach setting, I wear SPF 35 on my face every day, hats in the summertime, and even put sunscreen on any skin that shows. I moisturize often, especially on my scars, and I'm slowly learning to take care of the skin I have, freckles and all. Self-acceptance is hard when you've spent the majority of your life striving to be different, but I'm working towards it.

I also try to let people know that cancer can happen I have three scars to prove it. I promise that the temporary golden skin isn't worth having plastic surgery to remove cancer. I still struggle with looking at the scars in the mirror a few minutes too long or fixating on a freckle I'd prefer wasn't there, but at the end of the day, I choose life now. And if I can save one person from going back into the tanning bed, then my scars are worth it."