I’ve never been a fan of summer. Or, I should say, summer has never been a fan of me. Countless days spent rolling in puddles of my own sweat have taught me that winter is my preferred season – well, winter or whatever time of year allows me to wear sweaters and jeans instead of tank tops and shorts. It’s not that I hate the season itself, because it does have some benefits (i.e. ice cream trucks, summer anthems, a greater acceptance of country music, etc.). Rather, it’s the heat that gets me, the humidity and sunshine that team up to torture me every time June rolls around. Next to eating after midnight, heat is the only thing that can transform me from regular human being into a monster fit for a bad sci-fi movie.
It’s not just the high temperature that’s the issue, though, it’s everything that comes with it. For example: back sweat. Or “under the bra wire” sweat. Or really, just everywhere sweat. It’s sticky, it’s smelly and it makes me want to pull my skin off like it’s some sort of nylon body suit that I’ve been wearing for too long. Not only can sweat ruin perfectly nice outfits with stains, but walking around with moist underarms and clothes all day can really drain your self-esteem. (So can the word moist, so try to avoid that if at all possible.)
As if that isn’t bad enough, humidity is often an effective trigger for frizzy hair. Personally, my hair tends to take sudden temperature spikes as an invitation to go wild, which leaves me feeling frazzled and looking like Nicki Minaj. Meanwhile, the hair on the rest of my body starts demanding attention (considering my legs don’t typically see a razor until the middle of spring) and before you know it, I’m doing water yoga in the shower trying to reach all the hair follicles on the back of my calf and wondering why I wasn’t born in Alaska.
Heat also ruins the sacred ritual of traveling. Getting into a car that’s been parked under the sun for hours sucks almost all the joy out of singing along to Katy Perry on the way to work. (Almost.) Commuting on the train can be a death sentence, especially at the end of the day, during rush hour, when everyone is hot and cranky and willing to kill anyone who even looks like they might slow them down. Of course, this is complicated by the sheer number of people that think they can fit in one train cabin, a misconception that often results in uncomfortable mingling with strangers and leaving the train covered in other people’s sweat (as if being covered in your own wasn’t bad enough).
With so many sweat swaps, it only seems natural to want to take 20 showers a day, something which always invites guilt afterwards as you watch another gallon of water swirl down the drain, envisioning all the fish you’ve just killed. So really, the heat forces upon us a choice: save the environment or stew in a mixture of bodily fluids all day. It’s unjust, really.
Summer nights are not always fun and games, either. When the weather gets hot, the only thing that can prevent hours of tossing and turning (and sometimes crying if it’s 4AM and the sleep is not coming) is an air-conditioner that borrows wind from the arctic. Winter blizzards seem like a blessing when your bedroom feels like a sauna, but maybe that’s just me.