It's Always Somethin'

Amidst today’s travels, I spent quite a bit of time wondering what in the world was wrong with my hands.

I first noticed them this morning at Plimoth Plantation. As I washed up in the guest center, my hands looked .... orange.

Oddly, carroty orange.

Rather strikingly orange, actually. At the time, I thought it was probably just the light, but when I went outside into the sunshine my hands were still orange.

I questioned M. throughout the day (“Hey, is it me, or do my hands look orange?” or “Do these look orange-y to you?”) and by dinnertime it was plain that the orange glow to my hands was not a figment of my imagination.

But I couldn’t figure out what was causing it. I haven’t eaten a ton of carrots lately. Or any carrots, actually. I haven’t been painting or playing with henna. I’m pretty sure I’m not jaundiced. So what the heck?

We got back to the hotel about an hour ago, and I went to put lotion on my hands. They’ve been so dry today because of all the hand-washing. (I’ve gone a bit Lady MacBeth today: “Out, Out d**n spot!” D**n orange-y spot!)

It was in the hotel room when it hit me: the lotion! I ran back to check and, sure enough, there is the culprit.

We didn’t check any bags on the trip, so I had to buy toiletries in 3 oz. bottles so they could be carried on the flight. Apparently, the small bottle of lotion I grabbed contains large quantities of a self-tanner, which explains why only my hands are orange.

It also explains why I’ll be wearing gloves for the next few days.