Mom-of-5 obsessed with tanning was accused of “burning” her 6-year-old in a tanning booth

In 2012, Patricia Krentcil gained notoriety after being accused of endangering children. In fact, readers may be more familiar with her as “Tan Mom” due to her obsession with frequenting tanning salons and spending time in the booth five days a week.

Eventually, Patricia came dangerously close to passing away because to the contentious condition known as tanerexia, which occurs when a person doesn’t recognize or accept how much color they have. Though she continues to visit the salon, she is now doing much better.

“Tan Mom” has endured a lot over the past ten years. Here is how she seems right now!

Tan Mom, Patricia Krentcil

Obsession with anything, whether it be eating, shopping, television shows, or anything else, is rarely a beneficial habit to form. Of course, some things are worse for your health than others, but ultimately, it’s important to understand the long-term effects an obsession may have on one’s life.

It’s usually a good idea to see someone if you ever feel like something is starting to dominate your life or that you are placing an obsession above other crucial aspects of your regular existence. Try speaking with a friend or getting support from a counselor.

Patricia Krentcil – ‘Tan Mom’

Patricia Krentcil’s fascination propelled her to internet stardom. She began tanning when she was younger, and it soon became to be a significant part of her life. When Patricia went on trial for bringing her daughter to a tanning parlor in 2012, she instantly became an internet sensation. Although she was never found guilty, her name was already well-known.

She now tans more healthfully, but her time spent in the booth had a significant impact on her life and appearance.

When Patricia was only 23 years old, she developed a tanning fetish. According to the owner of City Tropics Tanning Salon in Nutley, New Jersey, the New Jersey woman averaged five visits each week for a maximum session length of 12 minutes. She paid $100 a month for an unlimited package.

“I’ve been tanning my whole life, going to the beach, tanning salons and so forth,” she said.

However, it wasn’t her tanning that originally made her a household name online. Her image was widely shared online in 2012, but for a completely different cause.

Krentcil was accused with endangering children in May 2012. According to authorities, she put her 6-year-old kid in a stand-up tanning booth, causing burns, as CBS New York reported.

Charged after brining daughter tanning

Patricia, though, asserted that everything was a massive misunderstanding. She was adamant that she would never take Anna, her daughter, to the salon.

“No not at all, not at all, not whatsoever,” Krentcil said.

However, the Nutley Police Department detained Krentcil and accused him of endangering children. The toddler allegedly received a minor burn in the tanning salon where she had taken Anna with her, according to the authorities.

According to ABC, New Jersey law prohibits anyone under the age of 14 from using a tanning bed. Teens older than 14 could visit salons, but only with permission from their parents.

In Anna’s case, the controversy began when a school nurse happened to ask Anna how she had gotten burned, to which the girl answered: “I go tanning with mommy.” Patricia, though, claimed that Anna had been burned after playing outside in their backyard.

“There’s not room… I would never permit it… It didn’t happen,” Krentcil said.

“She’s 6 years old. Yes, she does go tanning with mommy, but not in the booth,” she added. “The whole thing’s preposterous!”

Tan Mom, Patricia Krentcil

Patricia at that moment earned the moniker “Tan Mom” in the media. Patricia’s face was on newscasts and in newspapers all around the world after the purported incident went viral online.

“They just don’t realize just how much color they have”

Additionally, it clarified the contentious condition known as tanorexia, in which a person develops a dependence on and obsession with tanning.

“When you look at this, this is somebody who has a problem which most likely has a condition called tanerexia, where they just don’t realize just how much color they have,” New York dermatologist Doris Day told ABC News.

“There’s really no excuse to take a young child to a tanning salon,” she added.

“We often consider going to a tanning salon the equivalent of smoking for the skin and the younger you start, those effects are cumulative.”

Health professionals concurred that Patricia’s situation was quite serious. Dermatologist Dr. Joshua Zeichner thought it was one of the craziest situations he had ever encountered.

“In all my years of treating patients as a dermatologist, I have never encountered anything like this,” Zeichner said.

“Going to a tanning salon 20 times a month, frankly, is insane, especially with all of the public education and awareness campaigns on the dangers of tanning beds and skin cancers.”

Tan Mom, Patricia Krentcil

“It may be she has an [obsession with] tanning, which actually now has a name – tanorexia. She may need help to treat not only the damage to her skin but also what is going on with her psychologically,” he added.

‘Tan Mom’ faced up to 10 years in prison

The Skin Care Foundation claims that people who use indoor tanning equipment have a four-fold increased risk of developing melanoma. Sunbeds emit 12 to 15 times more UV radiation than the sun, according to the foundation.

My Husband Made a Schedule to ‘Improve’ Me as a Wife — I Taught Him a Valuable Lesson Instead

I was stunned when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule to help me “become a better wife.” But instead of blowing up, I played along. Little did Jake know, I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink his newfound approach to marriage.

I’ve always prided myself on being the level-headed one in our marriage. Jake, bless his heart, could get swept up in things pretty easily, whether it was a new hobby, or some random YouTube video that promised to change his life in three easy steps.

But we were solid until Jake met Steve. Steve was the type of guy who thought being loudly opinionated made him right, the type that talks right over you when you try to correct him.

He was also a perpetually single guy (who could have guessed?), who graciously dispensed relationship advice to all his married colleagues, Jake included. Jake should’ve known better, but my darling husband was positively smitten with Steve’s confidence.

I didn’t think much of it until Jake started making some noxious comments.

“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he’d say. Or “Steve thinks it’s important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”

I’d roll my eyes and reply with some sarcastic remark, but it was getting under my skin. Jake was changing. He’d arch his eyebrows if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, and sigh when I let the laundry pile up because, God forbid, I had my own full-time job.

And then it happened. One night, he came home with The List.

He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it across to me.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice dripping with a condescending tone I hadn’t heard from him before. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s room for improvement.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?”

He nodded, oblivious to the danger zone he was entering. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”

I stared at the paper in front of me. It was a schedule… and he’d written “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife” at the top in bold.
This guy had actually sat down and mapped out my entire week based on what Steve — a single guy with zero relationship experience — thought I should do to “improve” myself as a wife.

I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then I’d hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.”

After that? A delightful lineup of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing. And that was all before I left for work. I was supposed to cook a meal from scratch every evening and make fancy snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out at our place.

The whole thing was sexist and insulting on so many levels I didn’t even know where to start. I ended up staring at him, wondering if my husband had lost his mind.

“This will be great for you, and us,” he continued, oblivious.

“Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from —”

“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, my voice dangerously calm. Jake blinked, caught off guard by the interruption, but he recovered quickly.

“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”

I wanted to throw that paper in his face and ask him if he’d developed a death wish. Instead, I did something that surprised even me: I smiled.

“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “I’m so lucky that you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”

The relief on his face was instant. I almost felt sorry for him as I got up and stuck the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.

The next day, I couldn’t help but smirk as I studied the ridiculous schedule again. If Jake thought he could hand me a list of “improvements,” then he was about to find out just how much structure our life could really handle.

I pulled out my laptop, opened up a fresh document, and titled it, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a cost to perfection.

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I began by listing all the things he had suggested for me, starting with the gym membership he was so keen on. It was laughable, really.

“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I typed, barely containing my giggle.

Next came the food. If Jake wanted to eat like a king, that wasn’t happening on our current grocery budget. Organic, non-GMO, free-range everything? That stuff didn’t come cheap.

“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote. He’d probably need to chip in for a cooking class too. Those were pricey, but hey, perfection wasn’t free.

I leaned back in my chair, laughing to myself as I imagined Jake’s face when he saw this. But I wasn’t done. Oh no, the pièce de résistance was still to come.

See, there was no way I could juggle all these expectations while holding down my job. If Jake wanted me to dedicate myself full-time to his absurd routine, then he’d have to compensate for the loss of my income.

I pulled up a calculator, estimating the value of my salary. Then, I added it to the list, complete with a little note: “$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”

My stomach hurt from laughing at this point.

And just for good measure, I threw in a suggestion about him needing to expand the house. After all, if he was going to have his friends over regularly, they’d need a dedicated space that wouldn’t intrude on my newly organized, impossibly structured life.

“$50,000 to build a separate ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”

By the time I was done, the list was a masterpiece. A financial and logistical nightmare, sure, but a masterpiece nonetheless. It wasn’t just a counterattack — it was a wake-up call.

I printed it out, set it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited for Jake to come home. When he finally walked through the door that evening, he was in a good mood.

“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys on the counter. He spotted the paper almost immediately. “What’s this?”

I kept my face neutral, fighting the urge to laugh as I watched him pick it up. “Oh, it’s just a little list I put together for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”

Jake chuckled, thinking I was playing along with his little game. But as he scanned the first few lines, the grin started to fade. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the slow realization that this wasn’t the lighthearted joke he thought it was.

“Wait… what is all this?” He squinted at the numbers, his eyes widening as he saw the total costs. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? What the hell, Lisa?”

I leaned against the kitchen island, crossing my arms.

“Well, you want me to wake up at 5 a.m., hit the gym, make gourmet breakfasts, clean the house, cook dinner, and host your friends. I figured we should budget for all of that, don’t you think?”

His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?!”

I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”

He stared at the paper, dumbfounded.

The numbers, the absurdity of his own demands, it all hit him at once. His smugness evaporated, replaced by a dawning realization that he had seriously, seriously messed up.

“I… I didn’t mean…” Jake stammered, looking at me with wide eyes. “Lisa, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just thought —”

“You thought what? That I could ‘improve’ myself like some project?” My voice was calm, but the hurt behind it was real. “Jake, marriage isn’t about lists or routines. It’s about respect. And if you ever try to ‘fix’ me like this again, you’ll be paying a hell of a lot more than what’s on that paper.”

Silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Jake’s face softened, his shoulders slumping as he let out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound sensible, but now I see it’s… it’s toxic. Oh God, I’ve been such a fool.”

I nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes, you have. Honestly, have you looked at Steve’s life? What makes you think he has the life experience to give you advice about marriage? Or anything else?”

The look on his face as my words hit home was priceless.

“You’re right. And he could never afford to live like this.” He slapped the list with the back of his hand. “He… he has no idea about the costs involved, or how demeaning this is. Oh, Lisa, I got carried away again, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but we’ll recover. Now, let’s tear that paper up and go back to being equals.”

He smiled weakly, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah… let’s do that.”

We ripped up the list together, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same team.

Maybe this was what we needed, a reminder that marriage isn’t about one person being “better” than the other. It’s about being better together.

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