I have spent a majority of the past 8 months begging for summer to greet me with her sunshine and warm weather. I
wanted needed shorts and sandals. I laid in bed beneath my down comforter in my fleece footie pajamas with my space heater cranked up wondering when the madness would end, wondering when I would enjoy walking outside again, wondering when it wouldn’t be necessary for me to have a parka accessible at all times. Alas, summer is here! But let’s not forget that every rose has its thorn, and in this case, most of the thorns are in the hygiene category.
We grew up reading Everyone Poops, and I’m here to suggest a sequel titled Everyone Sweats. Stop staring at me on the subway while I fan out the back of my t shirt- Sorry there’s a salty river flowing from my ponytail down to my butt crack that I’m trying to dry up stat. Sweating is smelly and sweating is uncomfortable and sweating is really just gross. Fortunately for us, our bodies love us enough to sweat- PTL FOR HOMEOSTASIS AND BODY TEMPERATURE CONTROL. Sweating is actually totally disgusting and I apologize that for the moisture build up happening all over my body. I’d like to thank Dove for always keeping my pits fresh and clean.
Sweating is bad enough, but if you’re a lady with anything above a B cup, you’re probably having some serious struggles trying to figure out how to control your mammary glands in the hot summer sun. Want to wear a sports bra and a t-shirt? Cool- enjoy that sweaty river that’s dripping from your cleavage and pooling in your belly button. Want to wear a tank top? Have fun being ogled by your friends on the subway as you clutch your cross body bag to your hip and play candy crush on your phone. Want to wear a super fashionable backless dress to feel the breeze and limit back sweat? Don’t bother worrying about anything other than all the people making eye contact with your bra-less nipples!
My favorite part (and my boyfriend’s least favorite part) about the winter is that I never feel the need to shave my legs… like ever. Summer means shaving my legs all the time and shaving my armpits every ten minutes before I get a 5 o’clock shadow and religiously attending my appointments with Andrea, my girl over at European Wax Center who creepily has the same name as my younger sister, who takes care of my intimate areas. As if dealing with my eye brows and mustache wasn’t enough, now the sun has to come out and my skin gets to be seen, and dammit I don’t want to look like a caveman.
As if removing body hair and picking a bra isn’t enough, summer brings woman with incredible self-esteem to tears when it comes to the first day back in the bathing suit. Just like my friend Sheryl Crow said, “The first cut is the deepest.” The first swimsuit occasion usually comes when I’m feeling like I should probably lose ten pounds and am the color of an ivory napkin. I am one of those people that is just not meant to be pale; I’m not addicted to tanning, I don’t use bronzing lotions or get spray tans, but I am never fully dressed without my brown skin. This winter, my first in NYC, I saw my skin become a color I didn’t know existed in my bloodline. Even today, as we approach June, I’m just now returning what was once referred to as my “gross winter skin tone.” Never again, epidermis. Never. Again. Anyway, one of the greatest struggles in many woman’s lives is finding a bathing suit that induces feelings of pride and doesn’t look like dollar bills should be shoved into it.
Something about the sun being out makes me feel like I should have a beer or a margarita in my hand 24/7. While that’s not exactly work appropriate, it’s also completely unhealthy… obviously. Sometimes I have to remind myself that five consecutive days of happy hour should not happen, but usually my hangover reminds me after the second day.
We’ve already addressed sweating issues, but the combination of sweat, tanning oil, make up, and moisture in the air often leads to some unwanted friends taking up residence on our faces. I kind of thought that by the time I graduated college I would stop breaking out like a seventh grade boy, but I was wrong. To fend off these disgusting onslaughts of grime and bacteria, I’ve stopped wearing face make up in the summer. Just a little plop of mascara and I’m ready to hit the road. I realize that to some women, this concept is absolutely terrifying, and that’s okay, too. Just make sure you take extra good care of your skin, y’all. Also… oil wipes save my life on a regular basis.
Fear of missing out is always a thing, but there’s something about warm weather that makes me feel like I need to try just a little bit harder to make it to that barbecue. FOMO comes on so hard in the summer. I want to go to every movie in the park. I want to be at every street fair. I want to go to Six Flags every weekend. But I also want to be at the beach every weekend. And I want to sit in bed and watch an entire series on Netflix in my underwear every weekend. With FOMO comes flakiness, and I am the first to admit that I say yes to everything and show up to pretty much nothing. Sorry friends- thanks for still loving me!
This is not last because it was a last-minute thought; this is more of a best-for-last situation. I hate showering. I really, really hate it. In the summer, I have to shower before I go to bed because I’m sticky from the great outdoors and humidity and all of my sweat rivers. I have to take a freezing shower so that I’ll feel at least a little bit refreshed as I try to fall asleep in my A/C-less room. Then I have to take another shower in the morning to rid myself of all of my sleep sweat, which is a totally normal thing when you sleep in a 90 degree dungeon. The thing is, I’ve never liked showering. I even told my boyfriend on our first date that I wished I could wake up clean without ever actually cleaning myself, and that’s probably one of the most honest things I’ve ever said. I wish that my bed was a car wash for humans and when I fall asleep at night it comes to life and cleans me really well and then I wake up with perfect hair and shaved legs and smelling delicious. Come on, science- where’s my car wash bed?
While summer comes with some serious downers, it will always be my favorite season.
But that’s probably just the heat exhausting talking.