$10 sunscreen worth every penny

On my Friday night grocery run, I came across the aisle that only means stress to me every year.

There are two reasons why any sunscreen is worth $10.

The first is the store knows it’s got you. You’re already in the store, which is a clear sign it’s not worth it for you to go home to get the $10 bottle you forgot.

The second reason is more simple: Because it’s worth it.

The latter applies to me, probably to a degree greater than anybody you know. My skin has never handled the sun well; any years of living in the sun of the Southwest has done nothing to change it.

If I don’t spend that $10, and I have two outdoor sports events to cover once spring and summer roll around, I turn about as red as that Hydra troop leader in the first Captain America movie.

Let’s try another punchline: If I don’t apply sunscreen, a certain seafood restaurant isn’t the only one having Lobsterfest.

And one more, to the tune of Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer: Kevin, the red-faced writer, didn’t quite protect his face. And if you ever saw it, that’s why he’s a basketcase ...

Sunscreen works, and I apply it liberally. Like, to a Bernie Sanders degree of liberally. And while I’ll settle for 30 SPF, I try to look for 50 and 100 and will someday camp out at the store if 500 is available.

I even change my grooming habits on heavy sunscreen days. If you see me with a 5 o’clock shadow, that’s because I know from experience Coppertone and Banana Boat make great sunscreens but terrible aftershaves. It’s all worth it to avoid the next few days after a sunburn, where the face just feels hotter and the peeling begins.

But my body creates a catch 22. As much as it needs sunscreen, it absolutely hates having it on. If I’m at an event where the weather is somewhere above 72.1 degrees, I will sweat just a little bit. That sweat then mixes with the sunscreen to create a salty medicine mix that will make its way from the forehead to the eye area.

Once, after a particularly brutal experience with sunscreen residue in my eyes, I went online and looked up everything I could find for relief when sunscreen gets in your eyes. I only found repeated articles that say, “Don’t get sunscreen in your eyes.” This does not help me one iota. On another note, this perfectly explains why abstinence-only education doesn’t work, policy-makers.

If it were socially acceptable, I’d wear a hat with an umbrella on top, and my lone concern would be, “Since it’s bad luck to open an umbrella indoors, and it’s bad manners to wear a hat indoors, will I insult somebody twice wearing this inside?”

But eventually I give in, and realize it’s just going to be a battle until September rolls around. You’ll celebrate because the leaves are changing colors, but I’ll be celebrating because my skin stops changing colors.

What’s another $10, right?

Kevin Wilson is managing editor of the Eastern New Mexico News. He can be contacted at 575-763-3431, ext.320, or by email:

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