From a young age, I've always had a very particular summer skin-care routine . Back then, it went something like this: After lunch (almost always a menu of macaroni and cheese or Ellio's pizza), I'd change into my bathing suit, collect all the pool toys I could find, and then wait for my grandmother on the pool deck. I wasn't allowed to so much as step into the pool until she slapped sunscreen from the top of my forehead right down to my toes. By the time the process was over, I looked like someone had just dipped my entire four-feet-and-one-inch body into a bowl of queso fundido. But I was safe — at least, that's what my grandmother told me.