According to Web-MD, a website I use frequently to diagnose myself with a slew of severe illnesses, “Tanorexia” is a disease in which a bronzed girl looks at herself in the mirror and sees Casper the Friendly Ghost looking back at her. Said girl thus feels the need to continually apply self-tanning products in unmitigated abundance. Her friends and family members might stage a “Tan-tervention,” but it will do no good–”Tanorexia,” unfortunately, (at least at Langley), seems to be incurable.

In the interest of full disclosure, I will readily admit that I have used tan-enhancers before and have had successes, failures, and weeks of compulsive application. I do love being bronze and tan myself frequently outside whenever weather permits. However, by Langley standards, I’d hardly call this “Tanorexia.” The most severe cases are the ones I’m referring to– the girls who, on Christmas, are mistaken for carrots by Santa’s reindeer; the girls whose streaks could allow them to pass as a tiger; and the girls who, when asked what fragrance they’re wearing, proudly profess “Jeurgens in medium to dark.”

Now, with spring break rapidly approaching, Langley has slowly begun to turn a shade of orange as “Tanorexia” spreads like the plague. It’s especially the girls who possess perhaps less eventful vacations than their friends who most feel the need to tan themselves (“Maybe she is going to Barbados and I’m staying at home, but I’ll sure beat her with my fake tan!”).

Ladies, you are not fooling anyone. There is only one way to get a brown, golden, perfect (the tanorexics are currently drooling) tan, and that’s to be in a tropical or warm climate in which the sun has greater strength. Spray tans and self tanners can recreate the look somewhat, but not when you pile it on day after day. It’s especially noticeable when girls have improper technique (not that I’m a guru, by any means). But there’s always some girls who really take the advertisements on the bottles to heart, where it says “streak free formula, guaranteed!” If you are simply slapping on your self-tanner with a hearty “YOLO,” you probably are doing a terrible job.

I also feel a moment is necessary for the polar opposites of tanorexics, the actual Casper-reminiscent females that the “Tanorexia” sufferers see in their mirrors. These girls are simply always pale, and don’t fight it. And hey, I commend them– they likely have yet to develop suspicious moles or freckles and probably have fewer wrinkles. Essentially, they are a dermatologists dream. I salute these girls for, though they may blend in with white walls and become transparent in white clothing, they don’t fight genetics and don’t try to pretend that it’s really sunny and warm in NoVA in the middle of winter.

So with that, I say good luck to all the ladies out there in search of a mild, natural tan over break. And to all the tanorexics: I hear Willy Wonka is always hiring.