While visiting my parents earlier this summer, my mom pointed out to me how many of my stories relate to how hot it is, or how hot I am, or how hot I was. No, not that kind of hot, but actually hot, like I'm burning up and it makes me a little on edge. That's a nice way to put it.
So let me share a little story with you, I'm being vulnerable, so no judging. You know you've been hot too.
In July 2007, my mother was visiting us and we were looking for something fun to do with an almost one-year old. My Aunt had taken her to the renaissance fair years before and she loved it, so she suggested we go. We probably should have checked the weather beforehand, but this was before iPhones, so I don't even know how one would have done that back then.
We drove all the way up to Larkspur, paid to park, then went to buy our tickets. Four thousand dollars later, I noticed it was a particularly hot day. And a side note about that sweet almost one-year-old baby girl, she would insist on being held, she typically lasted about 12.5 minutes in the stroller before crying. So there we were, pushing around an empty stroller on the dirt while also carrying a baby.
So off we went, through the shops, in search of a turkey leg, and to watch some jousting. In the meantime, we found a beer vendor and I thought, surely a refreshing beverage would cool me down.
Wrong I was. Did you know alcohol actually makes you feel hotter? I did not. But man, I got angry. I could feel the beads of sweat dripping down my back like condensation on a drink in the heat of a Missouri summer day. I began snapping at everyone. I was mad that the jousting was in the sun, I was mad that everything cost at least $15. I was mad that when we would go home, our house wasn't air conditioned and we would be hot at home, too. I was absolutely miserable, and needed everyone else to be miserable right along with me.
And for the rest of my mother's life, anytime I am hot, she will say "remember the renaissance festival," and I will bow my head in shame.
These days I am still hot. Like irrationally hot. I was convinced it was perimenopause, which may have a little to do with it, but it is also a side effect of that helpful little pill. Fun fact: just like alcohol, anxiety medication impairs your body's ability to regulate temperature. So if you, like me, feel hot all the time, maybe it's medically related and you just need a doctor's note to wear shorts at work to make yourself feel better too.
Happy hotness for the next 45 days.