Guys, we need to have a little chat.
I am so sick of the hot weather bias everyone has. The sun is out, the temps are soaring and suddenly all small talk is about how great and wonderful the weather is. While I was San Francisco last month they had what can only be described as a “heat snap,” with the highs climbing well into the 90’s. And “weren’t we lucky to be there when the weather was so good”
I got news for you kiddo, I was fucking miserable.
And I have decided I’m done pretending. I am no longer going to smile and nod when people talk about how lovely hot weather is, and isn’t “summer just the best.” I will be politely disagreeing on behalf of all people who prefer it on the lower end of the thermometer.
Look, I’m not saying I want to live in midwinter all the time, and I do occasionally enjoy warmer weather. I hate wearing tights, and I like having a glass of wine outside on a warm evening. I’m not soulless.
But after a certain point, usually above 27C (about 80 degrees Fahrenheit) I start to get really unhappy. My whole body reacts: I swell up, I sweat everywhere. My skin goes crazy. I get a gross wet eczema on my feet, little bumps on my fingers and a rash on my arms, my skincare cannot even penetrate my skin through the layer of sweat on my face. I generally feel and look like I am coming down with the flu.
It is not pretty.
And you know what? I could deal with it. I have fans and cool clothing. I live in places where I rarely have to put myself through it. I plan my holidays so that I am not visiting a hot place in the middle of the summer unless I have immediate access to a pool.
In other words, I plan, I prepare and look after myself.
What really gets me is the assumption that summer comes and everyone will love it.
I get it, because of the school schedule, especially in the United States, we are trained to think of summer(break) as a time of freedom and joy, a chance to take it easy and celebrate. So it is easy to see why things associated with this time, including the way one little rock spins in space, are linked to feelings of happiness.
But guys, come on. We have got to break this cycle.
No one is obligated to enjoy summer, and preferring jumpers to sundresses should not be seen as crazy or bad. The idea that summer is automatically the best season needs to be ditched. It is simply a season: some people like it, some are indifferent. For me it is the worst of all seasons.
So please, just because you see me drinking a rosé, don’t assume I’m a summer lover. And if you tell me how wonderful the heat is I will not pull any punches. I’ll say, “acutally I hate it, I’m fucking miserable.” Because summer is no longer getting a free pass.