midsummer night's rant

Here's what I am over. As in, 'I am SO over it:'

Summer. I do love Seattle in the summer, but all this heat--I'm over it. More specifically I'm over: displaying any portion of my thighs or other body part that is pure white with the white sheen of the whitest abalone shell, last year's capris not buttoning, shaving my legs, having sweaty lip 12 hours out of the day, not being able to fall asleep because it's so hot, my peeling sunburn, and having sweat run down between my tits. (More about them later.) I was looking at some long sleeved T-shirts online today, and thought, a white long-sleeved T--wouldn't that look nice with some jeans. Next thought: oooooh! long sleeved T and jeans--what bliss! And just like that, I was over summer.

Shopping. It's a major PITA. I don't have a lot of spare time, and I don't want to spend it going through sizing-laden racks of clothes, then dragging them into a dressing room, some of which fit, some of which make me look like a weird multi-tiered cake (those ruffle tops?!) and some of which are really scratchy. And they almost never have what I want anyway. I want to imagine exactly what I want--a long-sleeved white T-shirt that is really, really soft, but not so thin as to show every contour of my nude-colored titsling at the bargain price of $9.99-- and have it pop into being. The thought of shopping just makes me really tired. I used to LOVE shopping, it was my major recreational activity. I went into the GAP with $100 today and could only bring myself to spend $20. So: when I win the lottery I will either: get a personal shopper, a tailor, OR purchase a large estate and go nude and have my maids change the upholstery every three days. Til then, I'm staying away unless it's absolutely necessary. I've turned a corner, kids. I am OVER shopping.

Bras and their contents. Oh, how I dream of the days back in high school where I could just slip on some little JC Penney cotton number and keep the girls in line. Now they're gigantic boulders on my chest requiring a $40-$50 titsling in a size not carried by most retail outlets. (Not to toot my own hoots, but let's just say most Playmates have the same problem.) They hurt when I run down stairs, and they require a sports bra plus a supportive sport top to corral them during exercise. Strapless bras are painful to wear--so the prospect of strapless or spaghetti-strap tops or dresses is absurd or unpleasant. (And there are a lot of clothes like that out there!) I gave up looking for a dress for my brother-in-law's wedding, and I blame it all on my tits. I sort of pine for a reduction, actually. Screw 'em. Sure, they're called "funbags" for a reason, but trust me, they're not worth the constant upkeep. If you're getting an augmentation, HEED ME! Be happy with what you've got.

And while I'm being negative and catty, here are two things I find mystifying:

Layering. As in layering T's and layering cami's made out of very very sheer material--two or more are required to mask a bra, or ni**les or whatever. People? It's SUMMER! It's HOT! (OK, it's 80 degrees Fahrenheit, but that's hot for me, and I would think, for you, too.) "Layering" is something for the fall--when it's **cold**. When it is hot, you want to DECREASE the numbers of layers. Now, I know what you're saying, "Hey you crabby marmot, those shirts are so sheer, that two have them only equal the insulatory power of one shirt. So no worries." OK? Then what about the fact that in terms of wear and tear on clothing, and doing laundry to some extent, that's double your displeasure? Cause that body odor is going to permeate both layers.

Dressing like it's fall when it's 80 degrees in August. I have a hard time not staring at these people dressed in full-length jeans and long-sleeved shirts. I've decided they're all from Southern California or Texas.

Maybe I should just not be around people for a while.