Sexy by Summer

It’s summer, ladies and gents, so where them bodies at?!

 

Imagine this. You are splashing through a pool party or yachting around the bay or simply existing in the extreme elevation of temperature due to our particular proximity with the sun. You are forced, by sheer survival instinct, to wear significantly less clothing.  You are examining your pastywhite, floppingflappyslappysquishy sorry excuse for a human body. And you have a choice: conceal or reveal.

 

And I say reveal, reveal, REVEAL, because at the end of the day, a body is a body and most bodies can do the same things. In bed. Obviously.

 

So ditch the sweaters. Burn the socks (that is a real thing that a family in my neighborhood used to do every June 1st. They were homeschooled and probably inbred, but anyway). And don a itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini and strut your stuff.

 

And maybe you have more “stuff” than normal. Say that it’s bloating or food allergies or thyroid issues or Lyme disease. Especially Lyme disease. It’s trending along with Hamilton: The Musical and food trucks at weddings. Either way, you are still winning, because there are a lot worse things to be than a little fat. Or a lot fat. Who cares? Just means there is something to grab onto when you finally seduce your summer fling and go for an old school make-out in the pool surrounded by your drunken friends.

 

Let me be clear. This is not an article on self-love. Self-love is a racket. More on that later.

 

This is an article about self-promotion, changing the narrative or, if you would indulge my academic partialities, Personal PR 101.

 

Go ahead. Flaunt your pounds of flesh. Watch all those skinny bitches/bros look on in envy as you jiggle your way to the margarita bar. Will they notice your fat ass? Sure. Will they feel, like, really good about themselves and their superior sculpted shapes? Sure, for like, a second. So actually, you and your hibernation bod are doing a public service for those poor souls. All they want is to be okay, whatever that means to them. And, honestly, the world could use a bit more affirmation that we are, indeed, going to be okay.

 

RIP, Kate.

RIP, Anthony.

HAGS, everyone else.

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