Friendships change as we get older. It’s inevitable. But one thing I never expected was to be ghosted by my beauty BFF: self-tan. It’s been my ride or die ever since I accepted that sunbathing on tin foil with my pale flesh smothered in olive oil was never going to end well.
But in my 40s, there’s been a shift. Even my best self tan doesn't stick around like it used to. A typical self-tan used to last a good week, but now it’s four days if I’m lucky. It doesn’t streak or make a fuss; it just fades and exits. It’s as if my skin is devouring the stuff.
