I’ve always been well known for my extremely pale skin. It’s safe to say that the one time I disastrously used gradual tinted moisturiser on my legs in middle school still haunts me, having forced me to wear full-length joggers in the midst of summer.
Remember that scene in Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging when Robbie takes the mick out of Georgia’s wotsit legs? That was me aged 12, and I’m still not over it.
Instead I opted to embrace my paleness - veins and all. And when people say: “Ooh Beff, are you okay? You look a bit unwell,” I’ve simply shrugged it off because fake tanning was firstly, not a commitment I was willing to take on, and secondly, I wasn’t very good at it either.
