My relationship status with the sun: It's complicated

Enjoying the nice weather with my mom on Easter Sunday.

Last week, we had a sunny Easter in Portland for the first time since I can remember. I was thrilled to get a break from the rain, to dust off my sunglasses, and to sit outside without a jacket for the first time in months. But with the nicer weather comes questions from my family and friends: Shouldn't you be sitting in the shade? Did you remember to put on your sunscreen?

Melanoma survivors (myself included) often describe having a love/hate relationship with the sun. I love BBQ-ing and eating outside on the patio, but I also worry about burning and putting myself at risk for more skin cancer.

Al at Black is the New Pink recently wrote a blog post that asks: Is anti-tan the same as anti-sun? I always enjoy reading Al's posts, but this one really resonated with me. After all, here I am testifying in support of a teen tanning ban in Oregon, and yet I'm tempted to tweet about the nice spring weather. Does this make me a hypocrite? Al's blog post helps reassure me that the answer is no. Here's a short except from his post:

"Those who have been adversely affected by the sun (whether it be from melanoma or aged skin) have every right to fear the sun. But for many, they’ve learned to respect it rather than fear it. They have learned that it’s important to wear sunscreen when enjoying the sun’s warmth. They know it’s best to seek shade between 10AM and 4PM when the sun’s rays are at their strongest. They know that wearing a hat provides additional protection. Believe it or not, they enjoy the sun very much. They embrace the sun. They also know the limits in which to enjoy and learned to respect it."

Later this week, I'll be flying to Punta Cana, Dominican Republic for my friend Jessica's wedding. I'm excited--obviously--but to be honest, I'm also a little nervous. What if my pale skin makes me stand out like a sore thumb on the beach? What if I miss a spot with my sunscreen and end up with a nasty burn? I've finally come to terms with being "pretty in pale" in my rainy hometown, but what happens when I travel to the Carribean?

Interestingly, a study published earlier today found that 1 in 4 skin cancer survivors does not use sunscreen, and that a small percentage of melanoma survivors continue to use tanning beds. I can't explain this, but there's definitely a part of me that understands. Despite the fact that I've stocked up on sunscreen and bought a new hat to protect my skin on this trip, almost every person I've told about my vacation has said to me, "Oh my gosh! I'm so jealous! You're going to come back so tan!"

It would be so much easier to just lay out in the sand and not worry about what the sun was doing to my skin, but knowing everything I know now, knowing everything I've been through, and knowing young women who have died from the same type of cancer I had--it changes things. I won't ever not be able to worry about it. I'm sure I'll have plenty to share when I get back. Including reviews on about five different brands of sunscreen!

Don't forget to enter my Fitbit giveaway while I'm gone :)

Just for the record, I don't hate the sun

Too bad every morning doesn't look like this! Image: David Yu/Flickr.

The sun and I have a long, drawn out, off again/on again, love/hate type of relationship. Here's why: In 2010, when I was diagnosed with an early-stage melanoma, I realized that after years of sunbathing, I'd never be able to lie out in the sun again without worrying.

Luckily for my skin, my hometown of Portland, Oregon is notorious for being covered in dark, grey clouds from October to June. So imagine my surprise when I left for work Wednesday morning and discovered a bright blue, luminous sky. Seriously. It was breathtaking. My theory is that the election finally ended and the clouds parted (just kidding, kind of). I'm not sure what caused the break in the clouds, but I loved it. The combination of the bright sky and the crisp fall air.

Throughout the day, the sunshine had a lasting impact on my mood. After I got to work, I was indoors until it got dark out, but I occasionally stole a glimpse or two from the window and the sun was still there.

It's no secret that energy from the sun sustains life on our planet. But it amazes me how much of an impact it can have on our moods. Just for the record: I don't hate the sun. I just recognize that, like almost anything, too much of a good thing is, for lack of a better word, bad. As long as we don't take sunbathing to excess, I like to think melanoma survivors can live a relatively normal life, which includes smiling when the sun comes out and playing outdoors.

Happy almost Friday! Have a great weekend.

I think I burnt my eyeballs

Oversized sunglasses aren't always
just for looks.

Last week, I complained to a handful of my friends: "It's August and I've worn my swimsuit only once this summer!" I know I don't purposefully lay out in the sun anymore, but a summer without swimming? It just doesn't feel like summer.

The weatherman forecasted it was going to be in the 90s on Sunday, so a small group of us decided to take a day trip to the Clackamas River. If you're from the Portland area, you probably know the Clackamas River. On hot summer days, it attracts a huge crowd of rowdy young adults (think frat party with water).You park one car at the top, float down the river on a tube, and drive back up to the top with your second car once you reach the bottom.

Even though I was swarmed by lots of tan bodies, I carefully applied my sunscreen to all exposed areas. I even spritzed my scalp and reapplied several times throughout the course of the float. By the time we were about three quarters of the way done, I started to feel an intense burning sensation in my eyes. At first I assumed it was just a little sunscreen that had run into my eye, but even after splashing clean water on my face, the burning persisted. I found myself needing to face away from the sun and shield my eyes from the glare with my hands--even though I had sunglasses on. By the time we reached the spot where our second car was parking, I was squinting like a pirate and could barely see a thing.

On Monday morning, it just so happened that I had a doctor's appointment scheduled, so while I was there, I politely asked her to inspect my eye.

"There are no scratches or anything," she said, "But it sure does look inflamed."

That was an understatement. My right eye was so puffy it looked like I'd been up half the night crying over a movie on Lifetime.

"You probably just got too much sun. Were you wearing sunglasses?"

Of course I was wearing sunglasses. My eyes have always been über sensitive. But maybe my sunglasses didn't provide full-spectrum UV protection. Or maybe a mysterious river-borne pathogen had somehow creeped its way into my eye. I didn't know, so I Googled.

Have you ever you've wondered: Can eyes get sunburned? Surprisingly, the answer (according to my doc and WebMD) is yes. In fact, symptoms include:

• Burning pain.
• A feeling that something is in your eye (foreign body sensation).
• Decreased vision.
• Excessive tearing.
• Hypersensitivity to light.

These symptoms, which can last for up to a few days, were sounding eerily familiar. Maybe I did burn my eyeballs. Scary, because excessive damage to your retina can cause vision problems later in life. So it remains a mystery whether I sunburned my eyes this weekend or not, but my love/hate relationship with the sun continues...

Magazines still sending mixed messages

Summer is upon us... or so the fashion industry would like me to think. I can't open a catalog or fashion mag these days without full-bleed images of beaches and bikini-clad bodies. I've already splurged on a short-sleeve lace top, a pair of bright red capris, and a pair of patent, nude pumps--none of which I can wear until June because my weather forecast looks like this:

But I digress. Every year it's the same: Magazines taunt me with exorbitantly priced beachwear (and matching Tori Burch accessories), while editorializing on how to lose those last few pounds. There's also the inevitable "True Story of a Skin Cancer Survivor." I just stumbled upon the first of the season in May's issue of Glamour by Shaun Dreisbach. The article itself is a good read. Its author highlights some important points that even I sometimes let slip through the cracks (e.g. reapplying sunscreen every two hours).

What drives me batty is that only ONE PAGE after this after this article, I'm confronted with a full-on bikini shot of Carrie Underwood. It's like telling me to go on a diet and then sticking a chocolate-dipped shortbread cookie in front of my face. Am I supposed to continue to reapply my sunscreen diligently or should I skimp so that I look more like Carrie Underwood? Seriously. With the mixed messages we're getting, what's a young, body conscious woman going to do?

Miss Underwood in the May 2012 issue of Glamour.

Think Carrie's a fluke? Think again. The same issue of Glamour also mentions:

• How to create a "bronzed glow" like Lauren Conrad... although, in an interview, Lauren swears she hasn't had a sunburn in years.
• A staffer who'd love to be stranded on an island with a simple white bikini because it would look so good with her new tan.
• How Alessandra Ambrosio (of Victoria's Secret fame) prefers neon colored swimwear because it flaunts her tan complexion.
• How to even out your complexion when your body tans faster than your face.

And no, it's not just Glamour. In April's issue of Vogue, Plum Sykes writes about how rich, full hues are "in" for spring, which is a boon for us pale folks. Sykes writes:

"Spring weddings/cocktails/luncheons are hard to enjoy when your chiffon frock renders your wintry complexion ghostlier than Gwyneth Paltrow's when her character dropped dead in Contagion."

Ouch, Plum. Ouch. She goes on to redeem herself (slightly):

"The most influential girls-of-the-moment--from Florence Welch to Frida Gustavsson--favor a quirky, edgy look achieved by wearing slightly odd colors, keeping their skin as pale as possible and their hair completely natural-looking."

In other words, Sykes may be rocking alabaster this spring because a handful of chic oddballs are, too, but what will she (or anyone for that matter) do when she catches a glimpse of Carrie Underwood or Alessandra Ambrosio?