If the Sun is Your Boyfriend—He’s Cheating on You!
Ah, winter. That magical time of year when the world sparkles with frost, the air bites (like an ex who still follows you on Facebook), and your Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) emerges like it’s been waiting all year just to ruin your life. For many of us, this isn’t a winter wonderland. It’s more like a bad horror movie: gray, disturbing, and full of questionable choices—like eating an entire box of Hostess® Cupcakes in your bathrobe at 2:00 in the morning.
It’s not that we’re dramatic (okay, we are), but there’s only so much gray sky and cold air one can endure before we start Googling, “How to sell your soul for a beach house.”
Let’s be real. We’re not thriving here. We’re not skipping through snowbanks with dewy cheeks and twinkling eyes. We’re restless goblins shuffling from bed to couch, wrapped in enough blankets to make a Victorian ghost jealous. Our hair hasn’t seen sunlight since November, our vitamin D levels are those of a crypt-keeper, and we’ve been wondering if tanning beds are worth the risk, just to remember what warmth feels like.
The SAD Girl Starter Pack
- Socks so fuzzy they could technically be classified as emotional support animals.
- Light Therapy Lamp (still in the Amazon box).
- 14 different herbal tea concoctions, none of which really help but makes us feel vaguely like woodland witches.
- That one shabby cardigan that signals to the hubby that the ice is pretty thin right now, so back off, Jack.
- Mood swings so erratic they could have their own Netflix docuseries.
Every year summer arrives as a mythical oasis on the horizon—like a golden utopia where our positive outlook magically returns from whatever Witness Protection Program it entered last November. We scroll past friends’ annoying beach selfies from Florida, clutching our third cupcake, muttering things like, “Must be nice,” while we stare out the window at a sky the color of dishwater. Meanwhile, your neighbor Denise just got back from Jamaica, looking like a bronzed goddess while we’re all out here looking like Jabba the Hut in a puffer coat.
The Delusions of “Fake Spring”
We fool ourselves every year. Around late February, a rogue sunny day appears, and we emerge from our hobbit holes like awkward groundhogs, squinting into the light, whispering, “Could it be?” It’s the sheer, unhinged optimism that THIS might be the end of our seasonal purgatory.
It’s not.
March laughs in our face and blasts us with another blizzard as a final act of pettiness. What. A. Bitch.
Summer Is the Toxic Ex We Keep Taking Back
Sunlight is our ultimate gaslighter. It smiles through your window like, “Hey, beautiful. Miss me yet?” And like the emotionally vulnerable wrecks we are, we fall for it every damn time. By the next day, we’re back to scraping ice off our cars, muttering profanities under our breath like those woodland witches calling on a Sun God who never picks up. No. He’s sun-drunk somewhere in the southern hemisphere, living it up, while we’re up here knitting sweaters from our own leg hair. He’s cheating on us all, you know.
When summer does finally arrive, like suckers, we forget every single hardship. We’re fooled every time, pretending we’re free-spirited goddesses when just three months ago we were hoarding carbs like we were prepping for the apocalypse. Our skin feels the sunlight and suddenly it’s game on! Remember: Summer seduces us with his promises—but he never commits. Still, we take him back with open arms.
Again.
Summer loves to keep us dangling on his thread. Here we sit, swiping through our camera rolls from last July, reminiscing like, “Remember when I wore sandals and didn’t hate everything?”
So There You Have It.
If you, like me, are trapped in a snarky winter mood spiral, know you are not alone. Somewhere out there, another SAD-stricken goddess is also pacing her living room in a Snuggie, sipping lukewarm chamomile, and threatening to bite people and fight the sun if it doesn’t return right now…and I mean it!
Until then, stay snarky, stay warm, and remember—summer’s coming.
Probably.
Maybe.
Allegedly.