Too hot? Get used to it. Severe weather has become the norm, and being a winter sort of girl, I’m not looking forward to the steamy days of summer which will likely stretch all the way to Thanksgiving.
As temperatures begin flirting with the 90s, I can already see the young girls passing my house in their teeny little short shorts and dresses with dangerously high hems, and low, low, low-cut blouses. Ah, the perils of living in a college town. How, exactly, is a woman of a certain age supposed to compete with that?
I can already feel the sticky embarrassment of makeup running down my face and it’s only 9 a.m. It will be completely gone by noon. You know the thing I miss most about summer in the twenty-first century? I don’t have a window air conditioner unit blowing non-stop cold air in my face and drowning out the sounds of crickets on a summer evening. Oh, how I miss that hum.
Since I no longer take long “baths” in the sun, I must settle for one of those self tanning lotions which turn you an alarming shade of orange and work best on the palms of your hands and your white towels.
What’s worse is that I’ve committed to spending at least 30 minutes a day outside – doing something physical. But what on earth will I wear? I’ve spent the last nine months in a red recliner sharing a bag of Cheetos with Lucky Dawg and Rebel. My wardrobe consists of a fuzzy sweat shirts which cover a myriad of imperfections and numerous pairs of stretchy leggings which accentuate them.
Now I have to venture outside in shorts and sleeveless tops! The only reason for the latter is that they don’t make summer clothes with sleeves any longer. What’s up with that? Obviously, the fashion industry is controlled by a bunch of teeny boppers who don’t know about arms that keep waving long after the company is gone. Their day will come.
My biggest fear is spotting myself in one of those forwarded e-mails (above) depicting strangely dressed “Walmart People.” Some days I just get in the car and drive to Walmart in hopes of spotting one of those people. I think they call them “Walmartians,” but I think it’s a myth. Folks in my town dress to the nines to go Walmarting and it’s more like a social event.
Since “strumpetry” dressing is out of the question at this stage of my life, I guess I will search for a nice fragrance. Anyone know of a good scent to get a man’s attention? I know…bacon! When I waltz into a room with a bunch of fresh faced coeds, all male heads will turn toward the old girl who smells like bacon. And I will have my sweet revenge.
In the meantime, I’m planning to dive into a swimming pool of sugar and with a side of French fries. You can just say I’m in training to become a Walmartian.