I may or may not be a Secret Shopper in the greater Chicagoland area. This being or not been said, I may or may not have "fake baked" for the first time.
Ok, I did.
It was free, thank god.
"I love Amy Winehouse's new song! Lemme crank up the volume on my personal radio! ::dances around the booth...?::"
"Is that the smell of my flesh burning?! Ewwwwwwww!"
::24-hours AND two showers later::
"Is that the smell of my flesh burning...STILL?! Ewwwwwwww!"
Tanning makes me feel like I'm buying (or is it renting?) a prostitute: it's fun while I'm inside, but it's nothing but tawdry guilt, smelling awful, and feeling sticky afterwards.
Tanning's nothing more than ultra violet prostitution.