Me: I’m not ready for summer.
You: OK, what are you even talking about? We only had Christmas last week.
Me: There is too much that needs to happen before I’m ready.
You: The body hair situation alone…
Me: Omg, I am so hairy.
You: I’m like a weasel or a Siberian hamster.
You: Their fur gets thicker in winter.
Me: Except now we must become bald like seals.
You: Hairless and exposed.
Me: And 90% blubber.
You: Do not get me started on that.
Me: I’m very much strong is the new skinny, but I’m not even strong.
You: I’m just a large ball of unnecessary fat, covered in layers and layers of hair.
Me: What I’m starting to realise is that I am going to sweat to death this summer.
You: I am going to melt from excessive heat because of the fat/hair situation.
Me: If sunlight ever hit my skin, I would die, hissing, like a vampire.
You: Sunlight would blind me and then I’d stumble in front of a car and be immediately killed.
Me: Apparently we’re supposed to have plans for things like holidays by now.
You: As if I would EVER go on holiday.
Me: Who are these millionaires who can just, you know, go away for no reason?
You: Well, they’re not me. I can’t even afford to leave my house.
Me: I can’t afford to even look at pictures of other people’s holidays.
You: Looking at pictures of other people’s holidays IS my holiday.
Me: I can’t even take the time off to do that.
You: And before you ask, I don’t want an Aperol spritz.
Me: I do NOT want rosé. Get your rosé out of my face.
You: I mean, the pedicure maintenance alone…
Me: The constant fake-tanning…
You: I just bought a cashmere jumper last week. I’m not waiting another eight months to wear it.
Me: I love my jeans. I WANT to wear my jeans.
You: I will miss my socks so much.
Me: I always miss my socks.
You: Not tights though. Always thrilled to see the back of bloody tights.