Ugh...Blech...Grrr... And Other Thoughts

In case you haven't checked my profile lately, I live in Arizona. I hate it here. No, scratch that. There are times when I hate it here. Those times generally fall between May and November and have something to do with the temperature. I feel like the summers here are causing my soul to die a slow and miserable death. So Oscar and I have some plans to move closer to his family in upstate New York, at some point in the future when we can fix up our house and he can find a job in a completely different state. In the meantime, we're dealing with the things we don't like. *AHEM*100+ degree weather*AHEM* There are times when it's easy. Now, for example, the weather is about as perfect as it gets. It's mid-70s during the day and clear skies as far as you can see. And this kind of weather generally lasts for a several months. Of course, the majority of those months are when most people in the country are shoveling their way out from under the snow.

It's a little weird reconciling the fact that a lot of the country is still dealing with colder weather when I walk through the local Target and am visually accosted by the display of bikinis right in the front of the store. I mean, technically, we're not quite ready for the bikinis here, yet, either. But we are closer than most. And I've lived here long enough to know that the change from "Wow, this weather is incredible. Now I remember why we still live here," to "God, I'm melting. Please, just shoot me. It will be faster and less painful," happens in an instant. I shouldn't be surprised. But I am. Every year bikini season sneaks up on me, planning its assault like an elite military squadron, and I am defenseless in the face of its superior force.

Walking through the store, my strategy is to simply refuse to see the cheerful bouquet of spandex and lycra. Or failing that, I will try to convince my mind that what I am really seeing is a large display of oddly shaped socks. Socks somehow seem less threatening. But ultimately, I know what that spandex and lycra bouquet means. I understand its significance. I won't be able to hide under a jacket or an oversized sweater anymore. Pretty soon, the sun will be beating down on me, and even if I were inclined to hide my body's flaws under a few extra layers of well-tailored clothes, it wouldn't be long before I started peeling the layers away. Soon, it will be so hot that my options for survival include becoming a hermit and spending the next 6-7 months indoors or braving the elements to walk the several steps it takes me to get to my backyard swimming pool. I honestly wouldn't even mind the latter option, if not for the aforementioned bikini issue.

Swimsuits are just so demoralizing. It's bad enough that you have to spend ungodly amounts of money on a piece of material that covers less than the jacket, on which you actually spent 25% less because you know where to find the good deals. No, you have to suffer through the indignity of actually trying that piece of material on before you plunk down your $50+. And I'm sorry, but when you've been hiding your light under the bushel of your oversized sweater for 2 months (which is about how long winter lasts here) it doesn't matter how good the lighting is or how flattering the mirrors are. You're going to look like a pale, pasty sausage in a shredded, too-small casing. And that's the best case scenario. The worst case is that you won't be able to find a single suit that recognizes that just because your hips are wide, it does not necessarily follow that your breasts could rival Pamela Anderson's. No, really....it's so completely obvious that men design women's bathing suits, because I haven't yet found one that takes into account the actual shape of a woman's body. Not Barbie's body. An actual, honest-to-goodness, breathing woman's body.

Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Okay, well, maybe I am, a little. It's just that bikini season is almost upon us again, and I'm just not ready for it. I've been going to the gym, and trying to eat better, but the fact of the matter is that I'm still heavier than I'd like to be. It sucks, but it is what it is, and I would be fine with it, if it wasn't for the fact that I need a new swimsuit this year. None of my old ones fit quite right (and to be honest, they never have) and I've put off shopping for a suit for far too long. I just haven't had a strong enough self-esteem to brave the dreaded fitting room. And, you know, now that I'm thinking about it, I still don't. I mean, being a hermit can't be THAT bad, right? Don't they deliver groceries to your door now? Hey, so long as I can get Ben and Jerry's delivered to me in the comfort of my air-conditioned home, I don't see what the problem is. I'm all set for summer. Bring it on.