Originally posted May 11, 2011:
People are very rarely shocked when I let them know I am not the biggest fan of summer. It’s not that I have something against happy people or drinking on a patio – but flip flops and those stupid straw fedoras people wear sure come close. It really has more to do with the way I look and the way the heat makes me feel.
People are very rarely shocked when I let them know I am not the biggest fan of summer. It’s not that I have something against happy people or drinking on a patio – but flip flops and those stupid straw fedoras people wear sure come close. It really has more to do with the way I look and the way the heat makes me feel.
Those people who know me can tell you I’m as pale as they come. I basically look like a geisha who has been trapped underground for several years and if I were secure enough to take off my shirt I’d blind ¾ of the city. That said, I get sunburned near open windows and we all know what that leads to: peeling skin and tan lines, tan lines, tan lines.
My arms spend the summer looking like thermometers with rising temperatures and my face fades back to white pretty quickly creating a candy cane effect. And since the humidity makes my hair crazy, not unlike Tippi Hedren in The Birds, it’s quite the sight to see. Needless to say this is not good for my neuroticism but excellent for the people I pass every day.
Sure I could just apply sunscreen every 10 minutes but I don’t feel like smelling like an extra in an Annette Funicello/Frankie Avalon beach movie all the time or being covered in white goo like a porn star. And don’t suggest that spray sunscreen bullshit because I refuse to spray myself in the face as implied by the previous porn star comment.
I know I should probably just enjoy the constant vitamin D and being able to drink outside, and I really, really try, but, but, but the sweatiness. Oh, the sweatiness. And then people get all insecure when I wont hug them because I don’t need to be any hotter or have their sweat on me too and it causes unneeded fights. It’s just awful that people can’t seem to understand and respect my wishes to not be soaked, or touched for that matter.
But at least it’s only a few months a year and I’m sorry to report that the thing that helps me get through the hot, sweaty, humid summer days is the fact I know I’ll be back in my cardigan in no time and I can go back to showering only once a day. Yeah, I know. You don’t have to give me that look.
Photo: Carmen Cheung
This Neurotic Life is an original column for The Little Red Umbrella about the trials and tribulations of being neurotic written by our Managing Editor Cody McGraw. See more editions here.
Cody McGraw is many things but the thing you can actually call him to his face is the Managing Editor of The Little Red Umbrella. See more posts from him here or follow him on Twitter (@cody_mcgraw).
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