Sun’s Out, Nuns Out….

… is what the expression should be when it refers to me. For most people the emergence of the sun means bare skin and tan lines, but not pour moi– I burn like a motherfucker and have to spend the summer months covered up like Sister Mary Clarence.*

Consequently, for me, summer is a time of envy of other women. (“When isn’t?” – you. “Fair point.” – me). At this point I’m far enough along in years that I don’t even bother to be jealous of the 20-somethings; they’re doing them and they’re basically a different species at this point. It’s the 30-somethings that really lather my soap at this point. So that you can join in the fun, here are some of the people I regard with barely-concealed envious loathing when spring is in the air:

  1. Women whose sunglasses make them look like glamorous bugs.
  2. Women who can wear those flat boho-chic sandals despite their total lack of arch support.
  3. Women whose artfully cut linen clothing makes them look like they could be the supportive friend in a Nancy Meyers’ movie in 20 years.
  4. Anyone who wears stripes better than I do.
  5. Women who have vaguely nautical-inspired tote bags with thin leather straps that somehow aren’t uncomfortable. How do people walk around WITHOUT fifteen pounds of crap in their bags– seriously, can someone tell me? Ugh.
  6. Everyone who looks like they’re having more fun than I am.

That’s just the start, I’m sure there’ll be more as the temperature heats up. Will keep ya posted.

*Once I went to a bachelorette party in Galveston and relied on the drunk bride-to-be to sunscreen my back– which is not the worst of all the mistakes a person can make in Galveston (I’d count *going* to Galveston as a contender there)– but resulted in me having a Jackston-Pollock-inspired millionth-degree burn on my back, broken up by a perfectly-white handprint where the SPF 70 had reached.

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