As I lay in bed, I look to my nightstand where I’ve piled a mountain of used tissues, a bag of cough drops, and an extra-large bottle of NyQuil with a pink bendy straw in it. I check my phone, which keeps buzzing with “where are you???” texts, and ignore the event I’m missing in exchange for an evening of sweatpants and cold medicine. Throughout this ordeal, the one thought that keeps crossing my mind (other than my mother’s stern warning that I should have, in fact, gotten my flu shot) is this: Only liars love fall.
Fall isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. All those sweaters and boots and vests every Pinterest model is wearing? I’ve learned the hard way that these outfits don’t exist for fashionable fall style. Oh no. It’s because it’s freaking cold outside. I’ve sadly packed away all of my skirts, shorts, tanks, and bright colors only to exchange them for a sea of navy sweaters that somehow managed to fit me last year, even though the extra fabric adds a cozy fifteen pounds to my appearance, and that cardigan definitely didn’t have those holes when I packed it away last March.
Fall is where our body images go to die. Our toned, tanned skin transforms into something I can only describe as marshmallow fluff pudding, which we hide under layers and layers of puffer vests which we pretend are what’s really making us look bloated. Just like we might prepare for spring break by working up our alcohol tolerance, we prepare for Thanksgiving by seeing juuuuust how much we can eat before the big day to be able to capitalize on the best free meal of all time. This leads us to say, “my diet starts tomorrow. OUR diet starts tomorrow,” except in this case, we know “tomorrow” means sometime in March.
And let’s not bring up pumpkin spice lattes and everything else they’ve inspired. If I don’t eat vegetables any other month of the year, there’s no understandable reason why I should want them in my coffee. Or my muffins. Or my body wash. Just please, please make it stop. Fall is the horrible time of year where it’s too cold to order a frappucino but too warm to order a peppermint mocha, so I honestly can’t think of anything worse.
Sure, in a competition to see who can be the most basic of the bitches, I “love” fall. I’ll wear my boots and my vest, drink my seasonal skinny latte, and carve a pumpkin. But know that behind it all, I’m a liar. I wish my drink was a frappuccino that didn’t taste like a vegetable. I wish I wasn’t hiding away my legs for the winter in last year’s jeans that I had to wiggle around in just a little too much to put on this morning. I wish it wasn’t flu season and I wish my allergies didn’t hate me. But I’ll put on a brave face and power through it, because soon enough it’ll be Christmas – the celebration of the birth of Christ and the day I get everything I want from my Pinterest “wish list” board. So suffer through that one last piece of pumpkin pie that you were wishing was a Christmas trifle, and don’t you worry, because gift-giving season is almost here, and by giving, I most definitely mean receiving..