Summer sausage

When I put on my bathing suit, I look like a lumpy breakfast link.
Common wisdom has it that you lose weight during the summer. Maybe because you get outside and exercise more, eat lots of fresh veggies, sweat it all away, or something. Whatever it is, shedding pounds is a summertime occupation according to every women’s magazine and most of my friends.
But it’s a lie! I gain weight in the summer. Maybe that’s because I try to stay cool with increased intake of alcohol and frozen sugary things (in combination whenever possible). I eat out because it’s too hot to cook.
Worst of all, I don’t go out for long walks or exert myself too much.
I turn an alarming, vivid pink if I do much more than breathe on a hot day. Childhood neighbors used to drag me out of the playgroup and feed me lemonade and cookies in their air-conditioned kitchens because they thought I’d have heatstroke. It’s a peaches-and-cream complexion, blotchy British-heritage thing. Ugly but unavoidable.
So from long-standing habit and to prevent alarm, my athleticism is limited to swimming a couple of times a week. I’m not going for any extended rambles through the city until the weather cools off some.
Maybe I should brave the heat, sweat off the weight, ignore my beetroot face, and stay away from rum-infused frozen drinks, but then what would I blog about when it’s too hot to think?