Turns out I’m actually dead… from this heat!
Gotcha, didn’t I?
Didn’t think so…
Anyway it’s that time of the year in Australia again. Everyone’s complaining about the heat, and I’ll happily be apart of that majority, because yes, it is fucking hot! One of the reasons that makes me know I want to live in the UK is the weather. I’ve had nine months of sweet, sweet coolness; from February to April I was indulging in constant rain/snow/wind and it was beyond lovely, and from April to September I was indulging in the slightly hotter Australian winter.
My body has not adapted. Who the hell invited the humidity and heat to set in? It’s only spring!
To make matters worse, for the past nine months all I’ve been wearing is jeans. So when it got up to 27 degrees celcius the other day I went to find some shorts in my draws. Turns out I don’t own a pair of shorts *claps for self*
Great job Racquel, suffer in your black skinny jeans.
Secondly, I’m as pale as a ghost, which makes going into the sun very difficult as I either turn into a tomato or practically glitter like Edward from Twilight.
I was not made to endure this heat. Give me some jumpers, scarfs, boots, gloves, and weather below 15 degrees and I’ll happily continue with my life, but for now, laying makeup wipes on my thighs and sitting under a fan will have to do.
Yes, I am literally typing this with makeup wipes lying on my legs, see: