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 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.
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 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.
Man in Walmart Demanded That I Give up My Wheelchair for His Tired Wife – Karma Got Him before I Could
I never expected a trip to Walmart to turn into a showdown over my wheelchair, with a stranger demanding I give it up for his tired wife. As the situation spiraled and a crowd gathered, I realized this ordinary shopping day was taking an extraordinary turn.
I was cruising down the aisles in my wheelchair, feeling pretty good after scoring some deals, when a guy—let’s call him Mr. Entitled—blocked my path.
“Hey, you,” he barked, “My wife needs to sit down. Give her your wheelchair.”
I blinked, thinking it was a joke. “Uh, sorry, what?”
“You heard me,” he snapped, gesturing to his wife. “She’s been on her feet all day. You’re young, you can walk.”
I tried to keep my cool. “I actually can’t walk. That’s why I have the chair.”
Mr. Entitled’s face turned red. “Don’t lie to me! Now get up and let my wife sit down!”
My jaw dropped. I glanced at his wife, who looked mortified.
“Look, sir,” I said, patience wearing thin, “I need this chair to get around. There are benches near the front of the store.”
But he wasn’t having it. He stepped closer, looming over me. “Listen here, you little —”
“Is there a problem here?”
I’ve never been so relieved to hear a Walmart employee’s voice. A guy named Miguel appeared, looking concerned.
Mr. Entitled whirled on Miguel. “Yes! This girl won’t give up her wheelchair for my tired wife. Make her get out of it!”
Miguel’s eyebrows shot up. “Sir, we can’t ask customers to give up mobility aids. That’s not appropriate.”
Mr. Entitled sputtered. “What’s not appropriate is this faker taking up a chair when my wife needs it!”
People were starting to stare. Miguel tried to calm things down, speaking in a low tone. “Sir, please lower your voice. We have benches available. I can show you where they are.”
But Mr. Entitled was on a roll. He jabbed a finger at Miguel’s chest. “Don’t tell me to lower my voice! I want to speak to your manager right now!”
As he ranted, he stepped back—right into a display of canned vegetables. He stumbled, arms windmilling, and went down hard.
CRASH!
Cans went flying everywhere. Mr. Entitled lay sprawled on the floor, surrounded by dented tins of green beans and corn. For a moment, everything was silent.
His wife rushed forward. “Frank! Are you okay?”
Frank tried to get up, but slipped on a rolling can and went down again with another crash.
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. Miguel shot me a look, fighting a smile too.
“Sir, please don’t move,” Miguel said, reaching for his walkie-talkie. “I’m calling for assistance.”
Frank ignored him, struggling to his feet again. “This is ridiculous! I’ll sue this whole store!”
By now, a small crowd had gathered. A security guard and a manager appeared, taking in the scene—Frank standing unsteadily, cans everywhere, Miguel trying to keep things calm.
“What’s going on here?” the manager asked.
Frank opened his mouth to rant again, but his wife cut him off. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “We were just leaving. Come on, Frank.”
She grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the exit. As they passed me, she paused. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Then they were gone, leaving a mess of cans and confused onlookers in their wake.
The manager turned to me. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the disturbance. Are you alright?”
I nodded, finding my voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wow. That was something else.”
He apologized again and started organizing the cleanup. People began to disperse, but a few helped pick up cans.
An older woman approached me, patting my arm. “You handled that so well, dear. Some people just don’t think before they speak.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I’m just glad it’s over.”
As the commotion died down, I decided to finish my shopping. No way was I letting Frank ruin my entire trip. I rolled down the next aisle, trying to shake off the residual tension.
“Hey,” a voice called out. I turned to see Miguel jogging up to me. “I just wanted to check if you’re really okay. That guy was way out of line.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for stepping in. Does this kind of thing happen often?”
Miguel shook his head. “Not like that, no. But you’d be surprised how entitled some people can be. It’s like they forget basic human decency when they walk through the doors.”
We chatted for a bit as I continued shopping. Miguel shared some of his own customer service horror stories, which honestly made me feel a bit better. At least I wasn’t alone in dealing with difficult people.
As I left the store, I couldn’t help but shake my head at the whole experience. What a day. But you know what? For every Frank out there, there are way more decent folks—like Miguel, that nice older lady, and curious kids.
I headed home, my faith in humanity a little battered but still intact. And hey, at least I had a wild story to tell. Plus, I got some free cereal out of the deal. Silver linings, right?
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