A letter to Summer.
Dear Summer,
While some people anticipate you coming along and soaking up all your sunshine and vacations, this extremely white girl did not enjoy you at all.
I may have enjoyed you a lot more if I didn't live in Missouri, where the second you walk out your door you're instantly covered in sweat. It doesn't help matters that I am in fact a bigger girl. Before you get all defensive on me Summer and tell me it's not YOUR fault I'm fat and sweaty, I'll tell you this: If you weren't so mother truckin' blazing hot this entire season maybe my fat butt could have gone for walks. Maybe my fat butt could have gone for runs. And maybe, JUST MAYBE my fat butt could have definitely worked out a lot more, but seeing as this attic is like 20 degrees hotter than the sun itself, it didn't happen.
Okay. Fine. I probably wouldn't have worked out the entire summer, but the thought is still there!
Anyways.
I also blame you for this ridiculously stressful semester I was put through. I was so excited to go through classes that actually would better my future in the medical program, but sadly, one class was absolutely pointless. I'm not saying that because my halfway dyslexic brain couldn't learn anything. I'm saying that because I kept falling asleep in the class (cause 1. it was freaking hot and 2. it was freaking boring). I'm saying this because I spent the entire summer in a classroom NOT learning how to medical transcribe. Don't even get me started on Medical Terminology. Ya know, the crazy medical language that I think is harder than Mandarin, and not to mention extremely crucial to my medical career. That entire experience reminds me of the four years I spent in Spanish class and can still only count to 13.
So you mix together you're menopausal weather, a horrible semester, and what do you get in the martini glass? A sick Amber. I've never given birth before (nor do I ever plan on it), but I'm pretty sure I know exactly what it feels like. So much that I took a little trip to the ER where I learned two things:
1. I'm allergic to medicine that makes my tummy feel all stoned and happy.
2. Cat scans cost around $5,000.
And if you're wondering if I about sharted myself when my uninsured self got the ER bill, you would be correct. I cannot wait until I get to see the specialist at the end of the month and see how much that dude wants to charge me.
While I was busy sweating, stressing, and dying - my face decided it was going through puberty again. I have never been so badly broken out in my life. There are villages and villages creeping all over my skin. So much so that I basically use concealer like an underlying foundation for my foundation.
Then there's work. I won't go into details about how that place gave me a freaking ulcer and less hair. What I will tell you is that I did not appreciate being stuck behind an oven that blasts out about 400 degrees. I'm sure you were laughing it up with all your death rays of sunshine blazing. I was not. I was slathering deodorant on and making trips into the freezer because I was constantly sweating like a whore in church.
Basically Summer, what I'm trying to say here is that I know you and I have never really gotten along that well, but I think after this horrible experience you have put me through, you owe me a vacation. A real vacation. One that involves a beach, NICE weather, an endless supply of fruity drinks with umbrellas, and a hot shirtless surfer boy. Or a Cabana boy. I'm really not that picky as long as he has nice arms and can strut it.
I'll have my passport ready June 1, 2012. I also expect to be put in first class.
Sincerely,
Amber aka The girl who is anticipating Fall like no other.