Sunday, 7 August 2011
Am I the only person in Britain who can't wait for the big freeze?!
The sun comes out and the whole of Britain gets naked. Suddenly, the usually grumpy and reserved couple from down the road turn into a human anatomy exhibition, there are more topless people in the town centre than in Nuts magazine, and I turn an awkward shade of red that makes me look positively ridiculous.
Don't get me wrong, I love the sun. I love the pointless optimism I develop each year, thinking that I will tan. I love long, flowy maxi dresses and high waisted shorts, both of which skim over all those wonky lines I have to fight to cover up in other clothes. I love the vibrancy of the summer; how it gets everyone out seeing stuff and doing stuff and being all that little more cheery. And of course, I'm slightly partial to the occasional sigh that a guy with killer abs will give me when he wanders past with a towel loosely over his shoulder. I love it all. But only for a few weeks.
For me, autumn and winter are what it's all about; long, cosy nights, knitted socks, clinched-at-the-waist blazers and fighting through crowds during the annual Christmas shop. And there's something so much more romantic about rustling leaves, snowflakes, wellies, hot chocolate, and clothes. Having something left to the imagination makes the rest of it so much more exciting! When a guy does the grand 'have' my jacket gesture in the middle of summer, it all seems a little too transparent when he's starkers underneath...
It is also, in my opinion, a lot easier to put together a good outfit when theres leggings/jeans, boots and a nice jacket involved, because, as much as I love my long, flowy maxi dresses, I don't love them so much when my mother accidentally stands on the back of them, ripping a nice hole that cheerfully reveals my derriere to the nation. (Don't ask...) And as for the high waisted shorts, it is a pain in the same derriere having to wear a pair of natural tights in staggering heat, just to add a little something to my milk-bottle legs.
So when the annual oh-my-gosh-summer's-over-already panic starts this year, I'll be sat feeling pretty smug, because I cannot wait to get stuck into another hideous British winter!
Note to Self: Do not write a blog post in the Winter complaining about dry skin, red cheeks, frizzy hair and not being able to find a warm enough jacket.