Baz Luhrmann Knows What's Up
Holy humidity. Being on the unlucky side of the gene pool that inherited thick calves and thin hair, I’m not one of those gals who needs seventy-five serums come summer to tame that beast. But lately? Even my baby fine hair has been untamed. And not in the “wild, sexy, big hair” way. More in the “did that girl get caught in a monsoon and then stick her head under the hand dryer in the bathroom?” way.
Sexy, I know; Brent can hardly keep his hands off me. But off me they shall be, at least until this bitchin sunburn goes away. Guess who remembered to get her entire face, neck, chest and shoulders at the beach on Tuesday? Me, me! Guess who remembered to get as much of her back as her tiny T-Rex arms could reach and then wear a hoodie anyway b/c risking a sunburn is so not worth it? Me, me! Guess who forgot that her legs needed some lovin’ too and now has bright red burns on her ass and thighs? Me, me! (for the record, I wasn’t in a thong bikini or anything, but the outer edges of my bum are definitely burned. Sorry for any image that’s now definitely burned in your head).
But the humidity’s been the hardest on ol’ Binxy. Poor little guy can’t even sleep like he’s accustomed to. Every time I look over at the couch, he’s in a new position. This seems to be one of his favorites, obviously it’s quite comfortable.
If you thought this was going to be a post filled w/ some great tips for beating the heat, you’re sorely mistaken. If you know any great tips, send ‘em my way. I’ve got to get back to the aloe routine I’ve been applying to my legs for the last 48 hours.
Which reminds me, I do have a tip for you: wear sunscreen.
Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen)