Naturally Tan

by Tan France

The counselor was a sinewy woman who looked like she really needed a good meal. She had long brown hair that hadn’t seen a brush in a long time, and she had one of those faces where, even if she were in the US, you would see her and immediately think, You’ve got some strong British heritage going on there, lady. At the time, I thought she was forty-five or fifty, but looking back on it, she was probably around thirty.

...this feels a bit mean spirited.

I heard the guy who got the lead went nowhere in life, so there ya fucking go. JK, JK, JK.

🙄🙄🙄

Even though the majority of the kids were different from me, it was there that I first noticed there was another gay student at our school. He never mentioned it directly to me, but he was rather effeminate and loved a Judy song. He was the first person I got to know who was gay. At least, I think he was gay. Maybe he was just a very effeminate straight guy. No, he made a killer friendship bracelet. His fucking bracelet-making skills were insane, yo. He had to have been gay.

😂

He texted me right away, which I loved. (I hate those fucking games. If you like someone, text them.)

YES

He worked at a children’s hospital, where he got one thirty-minute break during his twelve-hour shift. And during his break, he drove the ten minutes to come see me. He made sure he saw me every day that week, until it was time for me to head back home to England. We had only been seeing each other for a week, and as we were saying goodbye, he said, “I think this is the worst thing you can say, but I think I’m falling in love with you.” I was like, “Oh, shit. I’m on vacation and I’m about to go back home. I really like you, too, but I can’t say that yet.” I didn’t know if I truly felt that or if I was caught up in the holiday romance, and I didn’t want to say it unless I could legit back it up. So, I didn’t say it back. He wore a necklace that I thought was just lovely: a simple chain with a coin hanging from it. He gave me his necklace and said, “I know if I give this to you, you’ll see me again one day, to return it to me.”

This is very cute.

Another thing I hear a lot is “I met this guy, and he’s great, but…” This irks me more than anything in the world. It’s usually followed by something like, “I don’t like his style, so I’m going to encourage him to dress like this…” or “I don’t like his job, so I’m going to encourage him to do something else…” No. Wrong. You can’t change him. You’re not that formidable. And he may be happy exactly the way he is. If you want to change that much of a person, they’re not your fucking person. This is especially true if the thing you want to change is a fundamental thing, like if the person doesn’t believe in marriage, or doesn’t want kids, or doesn’t share your religion. Your beauty and your humor will not convince him that there is a God. Next!

production—I couldn’t just drape something on a mannequin and be able to produce it for the masses in a size XS through XL.

Oof, that's not the masses and a bit fat-erasure-y, Tan..

I don’t know where this American desire to show off the waist and hide the hips comes from—is it pressure from the media? Is the ’50s housewife look the eternal ideal in US culture? I don’t know what the psychology is behind it, but I am always amazed by how much American women gravitate toward it. My personal opinion is that while I love a fit-and-flare, which can be very flattering and whimsical, I hate the idea that women are wearing it to hide the lower half of their curves, or using this silhouette to accommodate men’s ideas of femininity and beauty.

No one wants to sleep with the ill-fitting suit guy. You’re either going to work or church, and there is no chance of fun afterward. If a woman or man sees a guy wearing that ill-fitting suit and they still want to get some naughtiness on, well, more power to them, but this dude’s probably going to close his eyes during the act and then cry afterward. Women everywhere—be warned. In conclusion, men: wear a suit that fits and drop the functional belt.

Tan, WTF

As a general rule of thumb, I encourage men to wear plain white sneakers because it goes with almost everything, but I don’t love white, heeled boots for women. Every now and then, it comes back in style, but I still say it’s a bad idea. You never want to get yourself into a situation where somebody has to ask, “How much do you charge for a handy and some over-the-pants action?”

?????? Tan, stop.

Men, if you’re not on the beach or imminently getting into a pool, there is no excuse for wearing flip-flops. Get a pair of slides. I don’t care how many times somebody’s told you that you have feet good enough to be a foot model. You don’t. If you got a pedicure, so be it; I’m sure the person at the salon is very grateful you came in. Still, I don’t want to look at your feet in flip-flops, and no one else does, either.

Flip flops are... fine. You can still see toenails in most slides? I'm so confused.

When I first came here, I didn’t realize people in the United States file their own taxes. I find it so weird that everyone is trusted to do that. I once watched someone do it and they put in deductions here and deductions there. So basically, what your tax code is saying is that if you’re a smart person, you can kind of game the system. I think it’s strange to leave the taxes in the hands of the people. It’s very complicated! And if you make any errors, they’re on your ass like crazy. I figured, it must be a topic that’s covered in school, since it’s something everyone will have to learn! But no. You just have to figure it out.

This is correct, and I agree that it's weird

If you’re paying insurance, the whole point is that you should be covered. Why are you expected to pay $2,000 on top of what you’ve been paying these people for years?

YEP

At this point, it happens virtually any time we go somewhere. It’s an incredibly strange feeling. I don’t think I’ll ever be regular Pakistani Tan from South Yorkshire again. It feels so surreal. I would love to be cool and act like, “Oh, it ain’t nothing.” But no. Freak your shit out. Some things are worth freaking your shit out over. I’ve trained myself to remain relatively composed. Know this is a lie. Inside I’m my teenage girl self, experiencing a full-on mind explosion.

When I travel, I usually wear a cap to disguise myself. But when you’re being searched, you don’t get to wear a cap. So while this is going on, people are getting all these pictures of me with my hair not done, which might be the worst part of all! While TSA officers are searching me, people stop to say hi and ask to take photos, and I have to be like, “I’m being treated like a terrorist right now, can you give me five minutes?” It’s incredibly stressful.

:(

I hope that our show and others like it continue to open up more options for people like me. Why can’t the lead or the heartthrob in a movie be a person of South Asian descent? Why can’t they cast people from all different backgrounds, not to fill some diversity quota but because a person from a different pool can be desirable also? I hope that increased representation can continue to encourage the idea that beauty doesn’t just belong to Caucasian people. Not just in terms of physical beauty but in terms of everything we have to offer.

I don’t know at what point famous people are no longer regular people, because I’m still very much dweebo Tan. I wonder if I will always feel that way, or if I will become a celebrity and act too cool for that shit. But I hope I never do, because I love that feeling I have now. I love feeling like I managed to sneak into the coolest party in the world and I’m yet to be caught out.

Since I’m not a formal-wear guy, sometimes I throw on sneakers with my tux. I don’t want to look like a fifty-five-year-old white guy who goes to a golf club and wouldn’t call me the nicest words behind my back. I don’t love that guy, so why would I want to dress like him?