Like venom is to serum, my melanoma cures me of my sun lust.
The remainder of my zeal for sunshine vanished beneath the 50 extra pounds hidden beneath the T-shirt I now wear when I swim.
The sun's too hot for my head now ... thus the hat.
No running for a football pass anymore ... plantar faciitis.
And the sunscreen ... block 45 ... makes me feel like a pig destined for the spit.
PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. Tell me that I will never wear a Speedo!