Regular readers may have noticed it’s been a bit quiet around here but as summer has finally started, we O’s have been rather busy…Read more…
I think it has finally come time for me to admit that I have a problem and be honest with you… that’s right… My name is Abbi, and I don’t like summer. I know I’m weird and incomprehensible to most and as the temperatures soar in London this summer, I’m realising more and more that my little confession is on par with saying something like… My name is Abbi and I eat babies.
It seems naturally inborn in everyone else I know to desperately seek sun and warmth and to take to the park/garden/balcony the second the sun comes out… but all I want to do is lock myself in a dark room and wait for it all to be over. I think I’m missing some kind of heat receptor gene. I have my excuses for why I don’t like being outdoors in the heat…
I get chronic hayfever… so bad that it has now started manifesting itself as regular migraines and my “companion” food allergies are out of control
I’m really fair… like ghost fair. I burn under UV light. My grandfather had skin cancer and my dad has had malignant moles removed. I don’t think a tan looks healthy… I think it looks scary. Health aside, I’ll pander to vanity… at 28, I don’t have one single wrinkle and I love the contrast of my milky skin next to my bright tattoos and my red hair… also I tend to get freckles. Yuck!
Antihistamines you say? Factor 40 sunblock? Well, yeah… it’s doable but I just don’t like it. I wilt like a sweaty lettuce the minute it gets to 22 C.
My name is Abbi and I’m a weirdo and I don’t like summer. But on the plus side… I don’t eat babies.