I am counting down the days for summer to be over. Please?! Can it be over now?
I’m over it. That’s for sure.
1.) I’m over sweating.
2.) Eating salad.
3.) Wishing I had worked on attaining a bikini-worthy body before bikini season.
5.) Taking them to the public pool where everything is way too public and the pool is rationed per body. Ugh. Like one big glob of humans swimming around in an oily can of tuna. Blech.
(Our pool doesn’t smell like tuna. If it did, you wouldn’t find me or my loved ones anywhere near it. It just feels like tuna! Wait…sardines. That’s supposed to be the analogy whereby you avoid the awkward talking about tuna thing.)
6.) I’m over drinking my coffee in front of our ugly AC unit just so I don’t break a sweat whilst drinking away my favorite part of the day. The sweating sort of nullifies the entire experience.
7.) Did I say I’m sick of the clothes? I am. I’m done with showing my arms all the time. I’ve never really been a fan of my arms–or showing them. They’re fine. I just like them better with a 3/4 length sweater.
8.) I’m also tired of trying to wear sandals. Sandals and me are not friends. The foot surgeries have rendered me miserable in flip-flops. Doesn’t stop me from wearing them when it’s four hundred degrees outside and my feet are all balloony and I have to go trudge through the stupid sandbox.
9.) I’m about to shave Chaucer’s head, and this is a very sad thing.
I literally have to peel bran-flakes out of his locks every morning. He wakes up from his nap looking like a wild-man. It’s cute, but sweaty scalp is gross on everyone. Even Chaucer. Also his scraggly bangs are constantly matted to his forehead with an unmeasured formula of ketchup, snot, and sweat.
So yah, I’m about to cut it.
10.) I’m sick of battling the tan. I don’t have a tan, and so every summer I wage a war against the media and every tall blonde girl out there. Also Latinas. And black people, because they don’t have to worry about it.
I’ve come to the realization that as beautiful as white skin may be, the bathing suit ALWAYS looks better with a tan. Always. So I start out the summer adamantly against the tan. Midway through the season I’ve achieved a small amount of color, am encouraged by it, and then try as hard as I can to get more tan. I paint my nails hot pink and wear white and think, “hey, I got this.”
And then it all sloughs off from one too many baths. Yuck. And then I can’t help myself–I shed my summer skin and am back to pale old me. The only problem is, it’s still summer.
So you can see that I would just love for it to be fall and winter and get back into my turtlenecks and jeans that properly conceal everything. Blessed, blessed long-sleeves.