This is a true story. Sort of. The truth might have been stretched here or there but you weren’t there so you’ll just have to take my word for it.
Certain parts might understandably send chills down your spine because of its darkness. I know it did for me when I experienced it.
I was still rather young at the time as I was continuing to help out with the family spray tan business when one day, a group of ragtag wrestlers came to town and were looking for the best spray tan value money could buy. Luckily for them, they came across my dad’s shop.
Of course, they weren’t disappointed but that’s not the point of this tale.
They invited me to come see the wrestling show they were putting on that night. I remember I was so excited. I asked my father who allowed me to go but he sternly said I had to be home by a certain time which the wrestlers who promised to supervise me obliged.
That night, I walked into the grand ballroom at the community center and I remember it like it was yesterday. There was a certain dankness in the air. It must have been the amount of anticipatory sweat dissipating into the atmosphere. It was grungy and grimy to say the least.
The wrestlers took me around backstage and showed me everything from their attire crates to interview areas. I marvelled at it even though it was just a crummy indie wrestling promotion that only did small venues.
I noticed the abundance of low grade spray tan cans laying around various locker rooms which made my young self shiver with fear. I ensured to give each wrestler their own appropriate spray tan recommendations based on their skin tones and in-ring personas.
Then came the actual event itself and wow, was I stunned. High flying flips and hard hitting moves ruled the night. I was truly captivated. After the show, I was invited into the ring where I was able to take a few bumps from the talent and that’s when I knew I would never be cut out to be a wrestler.
I tried to hammer a few of them down with clotheslines but I just wasn’t strong enough, let alone the fact I was half their age. I’ll never forget watching the main event, which was a hardcore match where the bad guy made the good guy bleed. I was astonished.
I think this was the very first time I had ever seen blood up close and personal. It was at that moment that I understood wrestling had a very grim side to it. A side I had no interest in getting into. I much rather prefer to remain on the peripheral, where I could make the wrestlers look good with spray tans.
Wrestling quickly became my escape despite the show leaving town and many years taking place before everything came full circle and my love for tanning brought me to Harry, which in turn brought me back to wrestling.
I believe in Harry to a fault, I really do but there’s a bad feeling brewing in the pit of my stomach that tells me Harry might not stay on the tan side of the ring for long as the dark side might be calling.
Whatever the case might be, my intentions to remain by his side will never waver. I still see images of that blood soaked canvas in my head when I close my eyes and I use that as my motivator to pray the good stays within us for the long haul.