I'm not actually a farmer, I swear.

"Miss Ellen, you have a funny tan line!"

Two things: 1. My Wednesday night barn kids are hilarious and far too precocious for their own good. 2. I have a farmer's tan and it's not even June.

By August, when the farmer's tan is in full effect, I will have a tan line from the polo shirts I wear at horse shows, the wide-strap tank tops I wear at the farm, and one where my gloves stop (and in really bad summers, where my wrist brace ends). The pièce de résistance, however, are my legs. Legs that wear jeans and breeches all summer long and therefore never actually see the sun. Legs that are pasty white reflections of my Irish heritage.

This never bothered me before, but now I'm at an age where summers mean at least one wedding to attend, along with the prerequisite showers/parties involved with a wedding. Which means dresses that show said tan lines to their best advantage.

The best example of the farmer's tan. Note polo shirt AND glove lines.

Thankfully I have not actually ruined anyone's wedding photos with these tan lines - the weddings I've been in at this point were for friends who either had equally hilarious lines (yay horsey friends)or didn't do a lot of posed photos.

Every year I swear up and down that this will be the year that I'll even the tan out or not get one at all. And by Memorial Day, I'm off shopping for aloe, SPF 9000 (not a typo), and sunless tanner to try to cover the damages.