This Is Why Summer Is Literally The Devil's Season

Ever since I was a child, summer has been the very bane of my existence. Lurking over my shoulder every May, there it was. As other children were eagerly preparing for days at the water park or beach, I dreaded the thought of being forced to engage in long hikes and picnics.

Sure, I like sangria on a patio and not having to check a coat at the bar, but other than that, what's all the hype about?

Big hair and I really, REALLY care. 

Monica's hair was a joke. Mine is not. My humidity-hair makes me dead on the inside. It's sweaty. It sticks to my neck. My humidity-hair raises the question: "Did you just get electrocuted?" It's that bad.

Chub Rub. 

R.I.P. our inner thighs.

As if sweating out of every orifice of our body wasn't enough, how about some good, old-fashioned chub rub? 

THICC thighs save lives, and I love it. But you know what I don't love? When I'm attempting to enjoy the season in a summer dress and suddenly it feels like I'm going to start a fire down there. I've experienced literal rug burns on the inside of my thighs from the moist environment. 

Yeah, I said it. MOIST.

In an attempt to beat the heat, I had to rub corn starch on my inner thighs this morning. That's a low point. 

Sweat. That is all. 

Honestly, the argument for why summer sucks should just end here. Thanks, everyone, you can all go home now. 

My sweat is not sexy. My sweat is not J-Lo Glo. My sweat is not Beyoncé. My sweat makes people ask "are you sick?" or "do you need a towel?" 


When it's one billion degrees outside, how am I supposed to keep it cool, let alone keep it sexy?

Candy canes, anyone?

Sun burnt, get turnt?

As someone whose olive skin has turned against them with age, I find I burn like a mofo. 

If I'm not applying SPF 1000 every 30 seconds, it's game over. Why would one want to exist in a climate that can scorch their skin literally off their body? 

Would you like to bathe in molten-hot lava while you're at it?

You spend four months swatting away these little creeps. 

Summer, aka mysterious itchy bite season.  

You know why winter is amazing? 'Cause bugs aren't terrorizing the human race. But once the weather warms up, mosquitos, ants, wasps (literally the spawn of the devil), and flies are here, and they're a-comin'. 

They're coming to land on your food, suck your blood, infest your picnic blanket, and sting your summer dreams away.

Makeup — and mental — breakdown. 

Nothing is worse than checking your makeup in the mirror a few hours after initial application amidst a sweltering hot summer's day. 'Cause I guarantee it ain't pretty. 

Mascara has smeared, highlight has lost its glaze, contour has disappeared into thin air. How am I supposed to find a summer bae like dis?

No more leggings = no more LIES!

I wish, wish, wishI was someone who embraced their body hair, but as someone who is hellllla Greek, I've come to terms with my own personal comfort being associated with slightly lessarmpit hair.

Once summer and dress season arrives, I must come to terms with the months of neglect my legs have endured, and accept the harsh reality that I'm going to need a bigger razor. 

Your allergies suck your joy.  

If you are one of the lucky few who doesn't experience allergies, you clearly have a nose sent from the heavens. In contrast, my sinuses were born from a dumpster fire in Satan's asshole. 

Hot sleeps literally ruin your life. 

OOoOoH, you wanted to sleep tonight? That's adorable AF of you. You actually won't be able to sleep tonight, or any night of the summer because the heat will envelop your body, cooking you from the inside out. You feel as though you're back in the womb...back in the homeland. 

*hot sleep cries ensue* 

It's like sleeping in the armpit of the devil! 

Everyone's in Europe, literally everyone. No, literally, everyoneis in Europe. 

We geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet it. You're baaaaaaackpacking. It's amaaaaaaaazing. Your life is chaaaaaaaaanged. 

If I see one more aesthetic Insta of someone standing on an old bridge/cobblestone street or with a miscellaneous European pastry/obscure fashion accessory, I'mma set myself ablaze. 

Summer TV is craaaaaaaap. 

Most scripted TV shows end in May, leaving us with garbage reruns for four months. 

One more episode of Big Bang Theory, anyone?

The relentless pressure to always be doing something.

There is a multitude of songs dedicated to how lovely it is to stay inside during the winter. People love to just get cozy and remain homebodies for the season. All is right in the world. 

But summer? All bets are off. "Omigosh!!! It's a beautiful day, get outside and enjoy the weather!" they say. But, like, how though? 

When all you really wanna do is stay inside and eat a bag of Doritos in bed, the world shames you for not eating it outside on a picnic blanket aftera hike onthe beach beforea bike ride! Can't an indoor girl live?!

Your ass is the hottest spot in town. 

Watch out for that metal chair that's been sitting out in the sun a little too long, innocent human, unless you'd like to sizzle your butt cheeks to a crisp. 

In summer, no surface is to be trusted. I don't like living like that. 

So, no thanks, summer. I'll take a hard pass.