Whenever I read a fashion magazine (which is a rare occasion, as my bookshelf is too full of comic books to accomodate any other type of reading), I always see those stick thin models with their rock hard abs and perfect legs and flawless skin.

Now, I've been "blessed" with a bizarre lack of acne on my face, and I've got my fathers tall and lanky French Canadian genes. I'm hardly ever one to call myself fat or ugly because, let's face it... I'm awesome.

I've spent too many years being self-deprecating and loathing my appearance! Now I realise that hey, I'm actually pretty, for someone who is pretty, er, androgynous.

But summer's on the horizon, and that means all us teenage girls are going to be going out in the sun, flaunting whatever assets we have for all the world, or at least the teenage males of the world, to see.

I got a pair of awesome short-shorts from my sister, and since the forecast was calling for sun tomorrow I planned to show them off to school. After months of hiding under pants from the snow and rain, though, my legs were in pretty rough shape. Let's just say I rival Casper the Friendly Ghost.

I bought an expensive bottle of self-tanner, and some Nair hair removing cream. Of course, I had that naive notion that if I used these products I would instantly achieve the smooth, golden, sexy legs you see in the Venus ads all the time.

I just spent the past half hour chemically burning all the hair off my legs and dying them what I THOUGHT was a golden brown.

When I rinsed off all the product and looked in the mirror, I had bright orange legs polka-dotted with an angry, red rash.

Somehow I don't think that if you snapped a picture of my legs in their current state, and slapped in on a buildboard, it would persuade people to buy these things.

I've learned today that maybe, just maybe, it's a better idea to rock what your DNA has already given you, than to mask it in fancypants beauty products.

Looks like I won't be wearing shorts tomorrow.

Love from my Oompa-Loompa-y self,

Iz/AJ
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