Are you an early person or a late person?
Anyone else ever feel either too late or too early to fall? I feel like this tree---awkwardly moving into fall. I’m either like the yellow leaves that are fully committed to the weather change, or I’m the green leaves—hanging on to every last bit of summer.
I wouldn’t consider myself a chronically late person, but when it comes to the season of fall, I’m usually late to the party. It never fails that when I show up to an event in late September, my footwear is always lacking. I’m that girl in flip-flops when all the other girls are in knee high boots. (And we all know how I feel about tall boots. #struggle) I’m bee-bopping into my kids’ open house at school in a sleeveless top and sandals and the other moms are in cardigans and skinny jeans. Ugh. My summer wardrobe has overstayed its welcome yet again. (And I use the term “wardrobe” VERY loosely. Can we even consider shorts, V-necks, and flip-flops a wardrobe when it’s rotated in with workout clothes?) Then I get embarrassed that my feet are showing when, clearly, it’s time to cover them up. I’ve somehow missed the memo that there’s an expiration date on shorts and I continue wearing them. It’s all very shameful. Or there’s the alternative…
…where I barge into fall a bit too early. I come in HOT, figuratively and literally. I’m the girl in cords, booties, and a cardi when everyone else is donning tousled hair and maxi dresses. In these situations, I’ve typically overestimated the cool weather and imagined that 87 degrees “feels like fall.” I’m sweating in all my crevices and praying that the moisture doesn’t make it all the way through to my cardigan pits. Guys, I’m a sweater. Like I can’t even hide it when I’m the least bit hot. The sweat-stache forms above my upper lip almost immediately and it’s the point of no return. Then, I spend most of my time trying to daintily wipe the sweat off and discreetly smear it on my pants that are no doubt sticking to my legs. All the while looking around to make sure no one is paying attention. I am usually rationing my fluid intake because the idea of trying to peel my skinny jeans off of my damp legs to pee is enough to make me want leave an event altogether. (If you’ve never encountered this problem, either the heat doesn’t activate your sweat glands or your jeans aren’t tight enough. I’m jealous of you either way.) For the women who feel me on this, you know it’s going to be about a 15-minute trip to the bathroom to get it done. It’s right up there with taking off a wet one-piece bathing suit and putting it back on. The trick is to make yourself look like you did before you even went into the bathroom. This is basically impossible because your jeans are now sticking in places they weren’t before, or you can’t get the crotch of your pants back up to your actual crotch. It’s times like these that I miss the ‘90s. Everything was baggy in the ‘90s. In pleated jeans, no one even knew you had a crotch because they were so distracted by the pleats. Ah, the simpler times.
Since I live in Tennessee, fall can be a bit elusive. One week it’s 90 degrees, the next it’s 72. But just when you think you’re good to rid yourself of shorts until next year, the temperature goes back up to 89. I’ve decided Tennessee weather has bipolar disorder. So until Tennessee commits to fall, I refuse to put the flip-flops in the back of the closet. People will just have to deal with my legs and feet as they get paler and paler into October. I’ll trade my sweat-stache for white feet any day.