It’s summer. It’s hot. And I know that living in LA isn’t as bad as living in Arizona or Las Vegas, but everyone I know who lives in those places has air conditioning. I don’t have it at my house.
And when you are gone all day working, you come home to a house that is like an oven. Some days, it’s over 90 degrees in my bedroom (I have a thermometer on my alarm clock). And despite my best efforts to cool down my house by opening the windows or using a fan, I seem to still go to bed in a hot room.
It’s difficult to sleep, so I’ve been exhausted the past few days. And since I live in such an old house, the fuses in my house might not be able to handle the power of an air conditioner. I’m looking into getting a box fan that fits in a window, but for now, I’m dealing with it.
One of my least favorite things about the heat (besides always being sweaty), is that my body swells up in the heat. I remember learning that this happens to most people in one of my adventures in eating disorder group therapy. I was in that group for about 3 years, and each summer the therapist would remind us that our clothes might fit a lot tighter during the summer and not to stress about it.
But my pants feel like I’ve gained 50 pounds and it’s hard not to stress about it. Every morning, I’m almost scared to try to put on my jeans. I hate the feeling of them being so tight, because all I can think is that I’m gaining weight. And I can’t even make myself step on the scale. Because all I can think is what if it’s not my body swelling up in the heat but me gaining weight. The thought of going on the scale right now almost brings me to a panic attack.
So for now, I put on my super tight jeans, head to work where fortunately there is air conditioning, and wait for it to cool down a bit.
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