I can still remember the first time I fake tanned.
I was 13 years old; my mum had a bottle of Dove gradual tan that I lathered onto my scrawny legs.
Our Irish heritage wasn't cut out for the sun, and to my disappointment, a natural tan would require burning my skin until it blistered. Even at 13, I knew better than that.
Watch: Are Australians as sun safe as we think we are? Post continues below.
All I wanted was to look more like the girls I was seeing on the newly created Instagram feed.
The orange legs poking out from my school dress made me feel one step closer to that reality. I was immediately hooked.
Luckily for me, this coincided with the boom of the fake tan industry in Australia. Self-tanning brand Bondi Sands was born that very year, and you couldn't rip a bottle out of my hands if you tried.
By 14, I was fake tanning every Thursday with their dark self-tanning foam and the real addiction started.
Australia's obsession with tanned skin has a dangerous history, however the new mass market accessibility of fake tan meant that there was finally a safer way. This was the era of Instagram filters, Triangl Bikinis, Coachella and toxic diet culture (a troubling introduction to adolescence if you ask me).
Social media was reinforcing Australia's message that "you're more beautiful with a tan" and soon, all my friends were addicts too.
At 15, my dad was diagnosed with stage four melanoma and the reminder of how dangerous the sun was, quickly stabbed me in the chest. This only reinforced my fake tan addiction, knowing how much better it was for me than sun tanning.
I spent the remainder of my teenage years and early 20s ensuring I had a perfectly timed fake tan for every major event. I didn't want to leave the house without it. It became a part of my identity and I genuinely didn't know myself without a fake tan.
"I didn't want to leave the house without self tan." Image: Supplied.

























