I grew up in the sun-worshipping ’60s and ’70s before anyone had heard of the term “SPF.” We cavorted for hours on end in the surf and on the sand, occasionally greasing up with baby or coconut oil that offered zero protection.

During the summer our lips and noses would crack open from extreme sun damage, but we refused to apply the only available sunscreen at the time: messy white zinc oxide or Nosekote that seemed to end up everywhere but on your nose.

So I shouldn’t have been surprised when the lab report came back on the two small bits of skin my dermatologist removed three weeks ago. One was a mole that mysteriously surfaced above my left brow last year, and the other a small, red, scaly patch on my right forearm that was itchy sometimes. That one I’d had for at least a year.

Self-diagnosis — a dangerous thing — via a medical website convinced me the red patch was a “flat wart” and I didn’t give it much thought. The mole bothered me more, but mostly for cosmetic reasons. So it was vanity that led me to call for an appointment.

Turns out the mole was basal cell carcinoma, the most common type of skin cancer, growing in the lowest layer of the epidermis.

The red, scaly patch? That was squamous cell carcinoma, affecting the outer skin layers. Neither is anything to get worked up about. The cure in most cases is simple removal.

It’s rare for these skin cancers to invade other parts of the body, but it can happen if left untreated. Their cause is no mystery: chronic exposure to ultraviolet radiation from sunlight.

When it comes to skin cancer, I pretty much check all the important risk boxes:

>> Live in a sunny place where UV exposure is greater.

>> Over age 50, when most basal cell carcinomas occur, since they often take decades of sun abuse to develop.

>> Severe sunburn, especially during childhood or adolescence.

Even after being well-informed of the dangers of UV rays, it was only as the brown spots started to multiply in my 40s and 50s that I began to take the threat seriously. By then the damage was done.

Now whenever headed outside I slather on sunscreen and wear a hat, and not just for the beach. When I do go to the beach, I outfit myself in wide-brimmed head gear, UV-blocking shirts and swim leggings, and seek shade when available.

And because people who have had basal or squamous cell cancer have a much higher chance of developing more, I do monthly skin self-exams as recommended by the American Cancer Society, looking for new spots or ones that have changed in size, shape or color.

I’m not going to lie: There are times when I miss being tan. I see old photos of myself looking fit and radiant with a rich, coppery glaze, and look down at my pale, mottled legs and wonder if a short session in the sun would camouflage the spots and return my skin to a healthy glow.

But this being Skin Cancer Detection and Prevention Month, repeat after me: There is no such thing as a healthy tan.

For more info, visit cancer.org or skincancer.org.

“She Speaks” is a weekly column by women writers of the Honolulu StarAdvertiser. Reach Christie Wilson at cwilson@staradvertiser.com.