The greatest mistake mankind ever made was thinking that summer was a good thing.

    Oh sure, it seems like a great idea on the surface. No school, everyone wears brighter colors, good movies come out …

    These things are just illusions. Summer sucks. And here is why:

    Sandal Season

    I take issue with sandals on several levels. (That’s right, I’m deep. Deal with it.)

    First of all, I have ugly feet. I’m talking seriously gross here; my mother actually takes the time to warn men about these puppies.

    To start with, my feet are ridiculously small. I am 5-foot-7 and I wear a size six. Proportionally speaking, this means that my feet are to me what Rhode Island is to the Western Hemisphere.

    So once you actually pull out your telescope and take a close look at my small-ass feet, you will then notice that my toenails are rather hard to locate, even with the help of magnifying equipment. Yes, I have tiny toenails. I was four years old before I had any nails whatsoever on my pinkie toes. I could spell “”toenail”” before I had any. “”Pathetic”” is too nice a word.

    But let’s say I decide that I hate the world and decide to ruthlessly punish it by wearing sandals. My feet are only made that much uglier by the fact that those damn sandals cut into my feet so badly that I have to limp around like some sort of Quasimodo wannabe.

    People, my feet have a small enough surface area as it is. I do not want to waste any of it with damn welts from sandals I had to actually shop for in the children’s department. Talk about adding injury to insult.

    To be, or not to be?

    You cannot tell me that any season that makes it a requirement to get skin cancer is a good thing.

    OK, so I don’t give a rat’s ass about cancer. But I do have a problem with the fact that I am white. Of course, by “”white”” I mean that I am glow-in-the-dark, sending-reflective-signals-to-alien-spacecrafts kind of white. I am whiteout white.

    Fine. So I should lay in the sun for a couple of hours, right? Get a nice, sexy tan and be done with it.

    I don’t think so.

    For me, lying in the sun just means getting burned. And that won’t turn into a tan afterwards, either. It will slowly fade back into the white abyss from which it came.

    Why can’t disgustingly pale skin be attractive all year? Who says the subtle shimmer of blue veins under a chalky arm isn’t sexy? Not me, baby!

    Whaling season

    Of course, even if I do decide to take that final step into sunburn land, I have to be properly dressed for it.

    And that, my friends, means buying a bathing suit.

    What is it about dressing rooms that make all women look horrible in bathing suits? I honestly don’t look that bad naked. (Well, OK, let’s just say I’ve been naked in front of other people and they didn’t go blind. I call that “”not bad.””)

    But the biggest pisser is that even if I do end up settling for a bathing suit that makes me look like only 10 lbs of shit stuffed into a 5-lb bag (as opposed to 20 lbs of shit), I am then expected to wear it in public! People have to see me in it!

    To me, summer means watching young children flee in fear when I expose myself in swimwear. And I am supposed to look forward to that?

    So basically, there is nothing redeeming about summer. It causes nothing but despair and low self-esteem. Not to mention skin cancer (which I only care about because my mother makes me).

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