I’m 18 and obsessed with using sunbeds… but people online are saying I look “burnt to a crisp.”

Megan Blain, an 18-year-old who’s hooked on sunbeds, says she won’t stop tanning, even though online trolls are constantly insulting her. They’ve compared her skin to a “dirty 2p coin,” but she feels stuck in a tanning habit she can’t break.

Megan, from Seaham, County Durham, started using sunbeds at 16 to keep a tan all year. She ditched fake tan products for daily sunbed sessions and even began using tanning injections to get a darker glow. Although she didn’t know much about the risks, she spent up to 30 minutes on sunbeds, sometimes using baby oil to boost the effect.

Teenager Megan Blain, 18, has admitted to being addicted to sunbeds, despite facing harsh criticism online and noticing concerning changes to her skin

Megan has been compared to a ‘dirty 2p coin’ by trolls – but she insists she is trapped in a cycle of tanning and can’t imagine stopping

Megan said, “I liked how I looked with a tan. I wear bright colors, and the tan made them stand out more. Once I saw how good it looked, I started going to the sunbeds more often.”

But her intense tanning routine has raised health concerns. Megan now admits she’s addicted and has tried to cut back on sunbed use.

She also says the tanning injections make her feel sick, and she’s noticed a strange patch on her skin that changes size. Even though she’s scared it could be cancer, she hasn’t stopped tanning yet. Megan has tried to go to the doctor several times but gets too nervous to go inside.

“I’m the type of person who worries about everything, so it’s strange that I’m not more worried about this patch. I know it could be melanoma, but I still use sunbeds, which shows it’s an addiction. I never feel dark enough,” she explained.

She says she’s stuck in a cycle of overusing sunbeds and taking injections that make her feel sick and unable to eat. She used to go every day, but now she goes about four times a week.

Despite getting negative attention from strangers, with some saying she looks like a “burnt chip” or a “cremated” version of herself, Megan still can’t imagine life without tanning beds.

The student, from Seaham, County Durham, initially began using sunbeds at 16, hoping to maintain a year-round tan
She swapped fake tan products for sunbeds and even started injecting herself with tanning agents to achieve a deeper glow
The student admits tanning injections make her feel nauseous and she’s even noticed a suspicious patch recently appear on her skin
Despite ‘not knowing much about sunbeds’ at first, Megan spent up to half an hour on the beds under the UV lights for over a year, often coated in baby oil to enhance the results

Megan said, “Everywhere I go, people stare at me. When they say I’m dark, I don’t believe them. I don’t feel dark at all, like I can’t see it myself.”

She admits she wants to stop using sunbeds one day, but she can’t imagine quitting. “I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone because you could get addicted without even realizing it, like I did,” she warned.

Megan has tried to cut down, now only using sunbeds four times a week, and she’s using her TikTok platform to warn younger people about the dangers of sunbed addiction. She’s especially worried because more young people seem to be using sunbeds than older ones, and she knows how easy it is to get hooked.

However, Megan has also faced online trolls who make fun of her tan. Some compare her to “burnt chips” or say her skin looks like a dirty “2p coin.” One person even asked if the sunbeds “cremated” her.

While Megan’s views on tanning have changed, she still struggles to break her habit of using UV lights.

Megan says her extreme tan has attracted attention from strangers, with some comparing her to a ‘burnt chip’ or saying she looks like a ‘cremated’ version of herself
Despite the backlash online, she insists she never feels ‘dark enough’ and struggles to imagine a life without the tanning beds
Megan has reduced her sunbed usage to four times a week and is now using her platform on TikTok to warn ‘the younger generation’ about the dangers of sunbed addiction

Megan said, “After two years, I’ve changed my mind about sunbeds. If I could go back, I’d never start. Now, it’s not even about wanting to be tan anymore—I just feel like I have to use them.”

She explained that once she’s on the sunbed, it’s hard to turn it off. “I don’t even like using them anymore, I actually dread it, but I feel like I physically can’t stop.”

Another tanning addict, Fionnghuala Maguire, 35, from Belfast, shared her story, saying she feels “lucky to be alive” after using sunbeds almost every day for 15 years. She started at 14 and never used sunscreen during that time. Fionnghuala is now warning others not to make the same mistake, having been hooked on tanning and going to salons up to seven days a week at the height of her addiction.

Grandma’s Final Lesson – The Seeds of Love and Hope

After a painful divorce, I arrived at my shunned grandmother Helen’s home for her 80th birthday, seeking solace. Her wisdom, “Life’s like a garden,” felt oddly prophetic. But my fate changed forever when her simple request led me to unearth a secret Grandma had been hiding.

I never planned on showing up at Grandma Helen’s doorstep feeling like I’d just survived a hurricane. Life had other plans. The kind that leaves you holding divorce papers in one hand and three kids’ hearts in the other.

A cottage nestled in a lush garden | Source: Midjourney

A cottage nestled in a lush garden | Source: Midjourney

But there I was, watching my children struggle with balloons in the spring breeze while I balanced a lopsided birthday cake I’d managed to bake between their soccer practice and my job interviews.

The house looked smaller than I remembered, its white paint peeling at the edges, shutters hanging slightly crooked.

But the garden was just as it had been in my childhood, bursting with color and life. Roses climbed the trellis by the porch, their pink blooms nodding in the wind like old friends saying hello.

Pink roses growing on a trellis | Source: Midjourney

Pink roses growing on a trellis | Source: Midjourney

“Mom, what if she doesn’t want us here?” Tommy, my eldest, voiced what we were all thinking.

His sisters, Emma and Sarah, aged nine and six, pressed closer to me on the narrow porch. Tommy had been doing that lately, speaking the hard truths that the adults in his life seemed afraid to voice. Just like he’d been the one to ask why Daddy wasn’t coming home anymore.

“She’s family,” I said, though the words felt hollow.

A woman standing on a porch holding a cake | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing on a porch holding a cake | Source: Midjourney

The rest of our relatives had written Helen off years ago, claiming she was stubborn, difficult, and maybe even a little crazy since she tended to ramble about her flowers.

It was also well-known that Grandma Helen didn’t have any money. She was 80 years old, and I’m ashamed to say that my family believed there was no need to put up with an older relative they wouldn’t inherit anything from.

A woman frowning | Source: Midjourney

A woman frowning | Source: Midjourney

Sarah tugged at my sleeve.

“The balloons are getting tangled,” she whispered, her small fingers struggling with the ribbons.

A gust of wind sent them dancing, and one balloon broke free, floating up into the oak trees that lined the driveway. I watched it disappear, a bright red spot against the blue sky, and wondered if this whole idea was as foolish as that runaway balloon.

The door creaked open before I could second-guess myself further.

A balloon floating away in the sky | Source: Midjourney

A balloon floating away in the sky | Source: Midjourney

There stood my grandmother, her silver hair caught in the sunlight, eyes bright as ever. She wore her favorite gardening apron, covered in dirt smudges and faded flowers, looking nothing like someone who should be celebrating such a milestone birthday.

“Louise?” Her voice wavered. “Oh my goodness, Louise!” She wrapped me in a hug that smelled of lavender and fresh bread, careful not to crush the cake. “And these must be my great-grandchildren!”

The kids, usually shy around strangers, melted at her warmth.

Three siblings standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney

Three siblings standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney

Emma, always the diplomatic one, stepped forward first. “Happy birthday, Great-Grandma. Mom helped us make you a cake.”

“Did she now?” Helen’s eyes crinkled with delight. “Well, isn’t that wonderful! Come in, come in! I just pulled a chicken pot pie from the oven. Divine timing, I’d say.”

Soon, we were all crowded around her kitchen table, the familiar checkered tablecloth bringing back memories of summer visits when I was young.

A woman seated at a table | Source: Pexels

A woman seated at a table | Source: Pexels

The pot pie tasted just like I remembered, and Helen kept the conversation flowing as naturally as the sweet tea she served.

“Tell me everything,” she said, watching the kids devour second helpings. “Tommy, you’re wearing a Seattle Sounders shirt. Do you play soccer?”

Tommy straightened in his chair. “I made the travel team this year. But…” he glanced at me, “I don’t know if we can afford it now.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, but Helen didn’t miss a beat.

An elderly woman seated at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman seated at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

“You know, your great-grandfather played soccer. Had the fastest feet in his county. I bet you inherited those quick reflexes from him.”

“Really?” Tommy leaned forward, hunger forgotten. “Did he win any championships?”

“Oh, the stories I could tell you!” Helen launched into a tale about my grandfather’s glory days on the field, and I watched my son’s face light up with each detail. She did the same with Emma, discovering her love of art, and Sarah, who shyly admitted she liked to sing.

An elderly woman speaking to her great-grandchildren | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman speaking to her great-grandchildren | Source: Midjourney

Later, I sent the kids outside to play and explore Grandma’s garden while we spoke. We sat down together, and she gave me a look I remembered all too well.

“You’ve got something heavy weighing on your heart, Louise. What’s troubling you?”

Of course, nobody in the family had told her about my husband leaving me. This trip from out of the country with the kids hadn’t included informing Grandma of my current life crisis, but it all poured out of me now.

A woman crying | Source: Pexels

A woman crying | Source: Pexels

“Oh, Louise!” She leaned over and hugged me when I finished speaking. “I’m so sorry to hear about Mark, but the pain will pass. Life is like a garden, you know. Storms may destroy your flowers, but the soil remains fertile. You just have to know when to plant again.”

I looked at her as I dried my tears. Her words, though simple, had shifted something inside me. I felt lighter in that moment, as though the storm she’d mentioned was starting to clear.

As the evening wound down, Helen touched my arm. “Louise, would you do me a favor before you go? My daisies need to be replanted. It won’t take long.”

An elderly woman sitting in an armchair | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman sitting in an armchair | Source: Midjourney

I was exhausted, but how could I refuse?

The garden looked different in the late afternoon light, shadows stretching across the neat beds where Helen had clearly spent countless hours. Every flower bed was edged with care, and each plant was placed with purpose.

“Just here.” Helen gave me a pot and pointed to a patch of daisies. “They’re a fragile variety and won’t survive the winter if I leave them out in the garden.”

Daisies growing in a garden | Source: Pexels

Daisies growing in a garden | Source: Pexels

I set to work as Grandma went back inside to keep an eye on the kids. After a short while, the trowel hit something with a dull clang. My heart jumped, but I kept digging.

My hands trembled as I unearthed a metal box, its surface scratched but intact. Inside, I found my grandfather’s pocket watch, its gold face still gleaming after all these years. My great-grandmother’s pearl necklace lay beside it, along with an envelope.

I dusted my hands off and carefully opened the envelope.

An envelope on a metal strongbox outside | Source: Midjourney

An envelope on a metal strongbox outside | Source: Midjourney

Inside, there was a short note: “My dear, if you’ve found this, it means you truly listened. Use these treasures to build the life you deserve. Love always, Grandma.”

Confused, I brought the box inside and showed it to Helen.

“WHAT IS THIS?” I asked.

She chuckled softly. “Ah, finally! I’ve waited for this moment for five years! Darling, you are the only person from the whole family who fulfilled my little request,” she said.

An elderly woman grinning | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman grinning | Source: Midjourney

She placed her hand over mine and said, “I’m leaving all the money I have, this house and garden to you, my dear. With three kids and a fresh start ahead, you’ll need it more than anyone!”

She leaned forward, her eyes intense. “I’m not poor, Louise. I’ve saved every penny your grandfather and I earned. The house is paid for, and there’s quite a bit more besides.”

My mind reeled. “Grandma, I didn’t come here for—”

“I know exactly why you came.” Her voice was gentle.

A woman sitting in an armchair | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting in an armchair | Source: Midjourney

“You came because you remembered me on my birthday. You came because you wanted your children to know their great-grandmother. And that’s why you deserve to inherit everything one day. Besides, this garden has plenty of fertile soil left for your fresh start.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stay. Say you’ll let me teach these little ones about gardens and life and starting over.”

I did stay.

An elderly woman sitting in an armchair | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman sitting in an armchair | Source: Midjourney

We moved in that week, and the next six months were a gift I’ll treasure forever. Helen taught the children how to grow flowers and vegetables while sharing pieces of our family history I’d never known.

She also taught me about investments and the careful planning that had built her nest egg. More importantly, she taught me resilience, about blooming where you’re planted and finding strength in starting over.

When she passed away that spring, it was peaceful. She went to sleep in her favorite chair, a book open on her lap.

An elderly woman reading a book | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman reading a book | Source: Midjourney

The house felt empty without her, but her presence lingered in every corner, in every flower that pushed through the soil that spring.

I used part of the inheritance to open a garden center, something I’d never have dreamed possible before. My children flourished in the stability she’d given us.

Sometimes, when I’m alone in the garden Helen loved so much, I think about that metal box and how she patiently waited for someone who would take the time to dig deeper.

A woman walking in a garden | Source: Midjourney

A woman walking in a garden | Source: Midjourney

Grandma Helen knew that love, like gardening, requires effort, faith that what you plant will grow, and understanding that the soil remains fertile after every storm.

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