Separating sunscreen fact from fiction

[lizzymahoney]

I'm naturally pale pale pale. Fish belly white, dead bride white. A nickname given me in high school by melanin gifted friends was Albi, short for? You guessed it.

I've been burned burned burned. I've been burned so badly that my face or arms or breast swelled up in huge puffy glowing shapes not clearly recognizable as human.

Not unusual for growing up at the shore. Philly's The Shore, peeps. AC and OC, pre casino.

Our sun protection back then was Coppertone. No SPF. You went in the water if you thought you were getting too red. Being the only pigmentally challenged in my large family, the concession was that I had to bring long sleeves, a hat, sunglasses, maybe a skirt or pants.

As an adult vacationing in the islands, I used all kinds of sun blocks and SPF 45 (zinc oxide, anyone?) and clothing barriers.

Oddly, I look pretty young as long as you aren't looking at me through a dermatologist's magnifiers and lamps. Or my ophthalmologist's. She would call interns in whenever she had me in the chair to exclaim over my maculas, which show signs of UV radiation.

Where I live now is not a good choice for someone so sensitive. I've made the best of it and rarely go out at midday. That's the best sunblock I've come across in all my years of second degree burns.