All winter long I miss my summer clothes. Day after day it’s the same story: sweater, jeans, boots. Oh sure, I might change it up here and there and wear—gasp!—cords; but, really, by the end of December I’m practically on auto-pilot. Sweater, jeans, boots.
But, what’s this? It was 70 degrees here the other day. I raced to bust out the flip flops. And then I was like, wait-- what the hell did I wear all last summer? After spending 25 minutes trying to find something, ANYTHING, to put on my body, I had the same wake-up call that I have every spring: the one nice thing about my winter wardrobe is that it hides a multitude of sins (muffin top, lazy shaving habits and scary toes, to name a few). Ugh. And it all looks even better with pasty white skin. The groundhog would see me, go snowblind, and stumble back into his hole.
So, I got my pedicure, my waxing, and a new diet plan (deets on that to come). I pulled out the bins of cute dresses and skirts and tops (how I missed you black Carve from-poolside-to-dinner-out dress…). Presto. I’m all geared up for warm weather.
The only problem is that we’re back to 50 degrees. Yup. Sweater, jeans, boots. That’s okay. It’s coming. And I’m ready. I do love summer.
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