You know what is white, round and sick of it being 35 degrees outside? This girl!
But wait! It’s sunny outside and going to reach a high of a sweltering 62 degrees today.
Now I know I shouldn’t bitch. I know it’s much colder elsewhere. I know that I have it good here in sunny California. Blah blah blah. But guess what? Some of us live in California for a reason. And it’s not so we can freeze our lily, white asses off.
Being a nudist and a late-in-life (not that I’m late in my life, thank you very much) sun lover makes enduring winter around here almost unbearable. I hate the cold. The older I get, the more I hate it. You would think that being a fat nudist it wouldn’t bother me so much. I mean, I do have a little extra insulation going on around here. Nope. Apparently it doesn’t work that way. At least not once you hit your forties. Or some shit.
I can’t wait for the sun~ the real sun~ to come back. You know the kind… the kind that burns your eyes and makes you sweat and turns you all red and you feel like you almost have to run inside to escape it before you burst into flames. Yeah, that kind. See, I’ve come to love that part of summer. I love the heavy air and lying on my patio; smelling like sunblock and reading a book while listening to Pink Floyd on Pandora.
For now, I suppose I’ll make due with my hoodies and sweats and coat and slippers and socks and the occasional beanie to survive until I can safely return to the outdoors without running the risk of my nipples freezing and falling off.