Aloha widowinos. As #hotgirlsummer comes to a close and we enter thotumn, I thought I’d check in and see how everyone’s insta-worthy vacays have been going. Oh, what’s that you say? The last 3 months have been pretty much like the previous 408 months (give or take) before it, just hotter and with more body issues? Same girl, same.
Accurate.
I’d like to say I haven’t had a chance to write because I’ve been out living my best life filling out a high cut bikini in all the right places and downing White Claws like there’s no laws, but in reality I haven’t written because I’m just lazy and busy with unfun things, like a soul-crushing corporate job. Said job has afforded me the luxury of travel so I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. Since the summer started, I’ve been given the opportunity to travel to exotic locales like Scranton, Pennsylvania…twice! Geez how did a girl get so lucky?
It’s true. When a White Claw is in-hand, it’s basically the wild west.
I did make an attempt at a bonafide “holiday” this month, and some might say I failed spectacularly. A few weeks ago I packed my flowiest beach cover ups and darkest highlight and contour palette, and headed on down to Mexico way. What ensued was 7 days of blissed-out relaxation, white sandy beaches, gourmet meals, and top shelf cocktails. Just kidding. My time spent at the El Dorado Royale gourmet resort was more like a Groundhog Day-style loop of “I wonder if this meal will give me diarrhea” and “Why is this pool water so hot?” and “Well that’s a new place I’ve never sweated before” and “I think I cut myself on the rocks at the beach” and “I ordered this room service 90 minutes ago, where is it? and “Oh, it’s the middle of my vacation. I better check my work email and put out all of the fires that somehow only I can fix from a country away” and “This map is useless. I’m lost, again” and “I wish the one guy who’s hitting on me didn’t also own a MAGA hat” and “The last time I was somewhere tropical was my honeymoon. Cool” and “OH MY GOD IT’S SO FUCKING HOT!” 
You know, everyone’s dream vacation. To be fair, it wasn’t all bad. Despite it being Mexico and our buttholes were consistently clenched in fear, we had two or three really amazing meals during the week, met some very kind people, and I learned how to make a swan and an elephant out of towels. So, I consider it a win. Maybe it really was a #hotgirlsummer after all. Most likely from heat my body kept expelling at an alarming rate, and not because people of the opposite sex find me physically attractive in any way.
But I don’t yet consider all lost. Labor Day Weekend is upon us, considered by most to be the official end to summer. I shall use this last chance wisely, and make an instastory so full of hard seltzer drinks, neon bathing suits, Lizzo jams, and plant-based burgers, your heads will explode! At the same time I’ll be thinking of all the jokey memes Bryan would have been coming up with the moment #hotgirlsummer took off and of all the ways he would have turned my “experience” at the El Dorado Royale into a kick-ass one. And I’ll try to look back at it through that lens and hope that he can still keep trying to make me better. Sorry. Meloncholy widow moment. It happens. Enjoy what’s left of the season and try not get too excited for all things “pumpkin spice”. It’s gross. Period.
the wittiest widow 