is it a bird? is it a plane? a new kind of rorshach test?

summer has arrived, and she is a raving, menopausal beeatch.

god. it. is. hot.

and all those people that are saying:

yes, it's hot, but it's not really humid, so it's really not that bad.

can just go back to their non-air-conditioned apartments, sip some organic herbal tea and melt a smug, environmentally-friendly death because I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT.

kidding, kidding, people!

actually, i'm handling this summer surprisingly well. could be because i'm spending quite a bit of it inside standing nude in front of my AC while drinking a Corona with a little lime pendant bubbling at its neck. yes, there is that, but i'm also trying to remember to walk slower, wear breathable cotton clothing (and underwear!), drink a shite-load of water, and buck convention by walking on the shady side of the street. all i need is a parasol! (and you think i jest...)

yesterday was supremely hot. i met up with my friend j. from IIN for a little "check-in" meeting. we get together to see how we're doing on our goals both professional and personal.

she was wearing long sleeves.

what?

i, on the other hand, felt like i could not get naked enough. yesterday was so very hot, i forgot my body dramas. i do not care that my arms are jiggly, or that my belly peeks out from beneath my tank top, or that my feet are imperfectly calloused. why? because i am certain that i am DYING OF A HEAT STROKE. puts my thighs in perspective. the blazing sun just downright fries all that self-consciousness away, and reveals a new attitude in its place: you have a problem with my impudent little belly? yes, well, it can fuuuuck you up.

sort of refreshing, isn't it? don't ya just loooooove a silver lining? it's dripping with sweat, but it's there. shiny and slick. like my forehead.