It’s almost summer, people. And I think we all know what that means.
Sneaking out the back window every time you leave the house in order to avoid your neighbors, who are none-too-happy with the knee-high grass that you’re too lazy to mow.
But summer also means family vacation time. And just like millions of other Americans, yours truly is planning on braving overzealous TSA feeler-uppers, overcrowded airplanes where they ration our Diet Coke like you’ve landed in the middle of the desert and it’s the last drop of water in the canteen, and lost luggage you’ll get back sometime in 2014 for a week of “relaxation.”
Yes, I am heading to the gorgeous country of Panama with my family this June.
Now, for about half of the population, going on a tropical vacation brings up feelings of excitement and anticipation and elaborate fantasies of drinking beer at any and all hours of the day with absolutely no judgment.
The other half is women.
See, for women, summer vacation means hot weather and water. Hot weather and water means swimsuits and various other skimpy outfits will be required. And swimsuits and skimpy outfits means people will actually see the neglected, pale and jiggly body you’ve been pretending didn’t exist since October.
And this realization causes us women no shortage of panic attacks and lucid dreams where children run screaming from the beach at the mere sight of our gelatinous form rising out of the ocean.
Luckily, however, I have come up with a great solution to this never-ending yearly cycle of body shame. Since summer sneaks up on us every year and we as a population are world-class procrastinators, I propose that there needs to be an extra month inbetween May and June that women can use to drop those extra five (and/or 30) pounds before summer officially starts.
Sure, it sounds crazy. But just think about it. There is never enough time to lose weight before summer. We may start to think about it in March, but hey, we’re busy and all that leftover Valentine’s Day candy isn’t going to eat itself. By April, we know we really should start exercising and eating healthier, but hey, all that leftover Easter candy isn’t going to eat itself. And by May, well, the first half of the month we can’t even remember thanks to Cinco de Mayo and suddenly BOOM.
It’s summer.
So, this new month will be called Desperatember and these new 31 days will be dedicated solely to getting us back in shape. There will be no holidays during this new month, since holidays almost always lead to eating your own weight in ham. Work will be kept to a minimum, since stress leads to inhaling a Snickers bar through your tears while hiding in a bathroom stall. And all fitness centers will be free for anyone who doesn’t look like they belong in a fitness center commercial.
Now, you may be thinking “But Aprill, if we have an extra month, won’t that just mess up the calendar? And wouldn’t Desperatember still just essentially be June?”
To that, I say “Well, aren’t you just a Mr. Clever Pants” in an extremely snarky voice. Followed by “Shut up. I hate you.”
Because if we can make Pluto a planet and then cruelly rip that distinction back away from it, if we can claim a tomato is a fruit when it so obviously belongs in the “tastes icky by itself” vegetable category, and if we collectively have resisted the urge to assassinate Kim Kardashian thus far, then we as a society can create a new month.
So let’s make this happen, people. Because with the help of Desperatember, women will no longer have to hang out on the beach clinging to their towel, oversized 80’s T-shirt or old Halloween ghost costume like it’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic.
And maybe even…GASP…start to enjoy ourselves on vacation.
Chick Writes Stuff 