Are You a Dermatologist?
Some conversations you return to long after they’ve finished. One I return to often took place poolside at a Cancun resort. We only had the girls then, and they were little. Our oldest explored the splash pad with her new best friend, who she’d met ten minutes earlier, while I made sure our eight-month old didn’t topple over into the water. “Are you a dermatologist?” I swiveled my head to see a bikini-clad woman dangling her feet over the edge. She looked straight at me. “Excuse me?” I said. “Are you a dermatologist?” she asked again, confirming I’d heard correctly the first time. “You look like a dermatologist.” For a split second, I thought maybe I’d finally nailed my skincare routine. “Cause you’re all wearing swim shirts,” she continued. Oh. That. It was true. I’d learned early in the summer that slathering sunblock on myself, a four-year-old, and a baby made for a miserable experience. So I went out and purchased three SPF 50 swim shirts. They held up nicely agai...