I hate summer. Yes, you heard me right. I hate the heat, and I hate the fact that there are always people outside when I want to go somewhere. My neighbors are not bad people. I get along all right with them. But when I'm trying to leave the house and there's herds of wild kids on the lawn between our two units, I sometimes get uncomfortable. I can't walk during the day, because there's always some fool who has to cat-call. Because middle aged fat women aren't allowed to want a bit of exercise. We need to stay unside until we are aesthetically pleasing to the eye of the common buffoon. And then we will be made to feel uncomfortable when they make sexual suggestions to us.
So yes, fuck you, Summer. You're like one of those beautiful, energetic, self-centered, horribly annoying frenemies. "Look at me, look at meeeeee! Let's get this party started!" you crow.
"Fuck off and die," I mumble.
I sigh and try to calm the cramps in my stomach as I make my way outdoors, forcing myself to be polite when the children greet me with a high pitched "HIIIIII!"
Social anxiety sucks.
Here's Summer
"Oh, hieeeeee! Are you ready to get this party started?"
