One woman's quest to achieve the perfect John Boehner tan

Although I was holding out hope for “Tequila Sunrise,” “Tangerine Dream,” or the evocative “Cowboy Boot,” according to my calculations, Mr. Boehner’s tan is down to either “Antique Amber” or “Clay Pot.” I hold each swatch up to my stomach, craning my neck to see if I’ve found my match. As I haven’t yet been fully Boehnerized, I have a moment of quiet gratitude for the fact that socialized health care in Massachusetts will allow me to eventually ask a doctor about the nerve I’m pinching in my efforts to find the exact shade it takes to become Boehner.