LIFE || Reasons Why I Hate Sunny Days

When the sun is shining and sky is as blue as a horny smurf, I’d be forgiven for thinking you were on a beach in an idyllic remote island, the water lapping against the sand and with a ice cold bottle of lager being shaded by a parosol. Cut to reality and I’m looking at the sunshine and the clear blue sky through the greenhouse like glass of of my office windows, embarking on half hourly trips to the over worked water dispenser, hugging the desk fan which turns my hair into a music video mane whilst simultanously trying not to melt into my keyboard/leave a patch of swear on my desk chair.

Yes, I’m one of those “it’s too hot!” people that you moan about on Facebook.

Being ginger, almost transparent in skin tone and more rotund than you average person this warm weather doesn’t exactly agree with me. Infact it repels me.

I’m the girl spending her lunch break at Tesco buying multipacks of ice lollies and contemplating sitting inside the freezers or setting up campl for the night in the chilled food aisles. I’ve actually lost count of the times I’ve held my kitchen fridge open and leaned into it. I hold bottles of cold water against my skin and dash to the toilets every so often to run my wrists under a faucet of cold water and I’m genuinely considering hiring myself a glistening skinned adonis to fan me with a palm leaf and feed me grapes cold grapes at regular intervals (by cold grapes I mean grapes which have been squished and turned into White Zinfandel).

With this in mind I thought I’d offer up my own ray of sunshine in the form of a “REASONS WHY I HATE SUNNY DAYS” *cough*.


For one, styling my hair is nigh on pointless. Not only does spending 15 minutes crouched under a stream of constant hot air followed by a heated hair styler sound like sadistic behaviour, but 15 minutes of torture (and hair damage) goes to waste after 0.05 seconds of exposure to humidity. Ya feel me?


Maybe one more suited to us gals whose thighs are very much in love and have to be joined in matrimony at all times. When the sun is in full swing sometimes the only sane clothing option is a flowing and breeze accessible maxi dress, but with great breezy comfort we sacrifice the health of our inner thighs to the crippling and debilitating pain known as chub rub. Movement causes heat, heat causes sweat, sweat causes friction and too much friction causes friction burn. Imagine friction burn, between your thighs, being constantly rubbed. Welcome to our world.


“Oh I don’t wear any makeup when its sunny” say those lucky girls with perfect complexions and ultra long eyelashes who you want to punch in the face because your foundation is half way down your maxi and your mascara has transferred onto your lid and onto your cheek. I’m one of those girls who has to wear make up to socialise with other humans or I feel naked and you do not know what I would give to wake up fresh faced and not have to apply a face of makeup to skin as sweaty as the buttcrack of a sumo wrestler (a kidney and my pet dog, probably).


Maxi dresses and anything which allows free flowing air to circulate the sweltering being are a gals best friend. Give me a mile of fabric and I’m a happy gal but aforementioned chub rub limits the choices somewhat when you have a crater of skin missing from your inner thigh. Other “keeping cool” clothing options that are available are somewhat limiting. Barely there playsuits mean my loving thighs make the legs ride up to practically inside my vagina, denim shorts and any skirt north of the knee are worn only when in conjunction with standard issue 100 denier black opaques and sleeveless tops are always accompanied by a cover up of some sort to banish the bingo wing.


When I make the effort to be a sun bunny I’m quickly reminded of the fact that I am the owner of ginger hair and transparent skin and not a complexion which the sun favours. After the briefest wink at the sun my skin develops a pink lobster glow and my smattering of freckles takes it upon themselves to fornicate like crazy and multiply across my forehead, nose, chest and arms. Freckles = pretty tho, right? Correct, but when combined with a dose of unsightly lumps from heatrash… not so much.

The Hof shows us his sweaty side. (Photo: Getty Images)

Everybody sweats. Men, women and child all expel beads of perspiration through their pores when their bodies reach a certain temperature. During sunny days the amount of sweat increases and the excess moisture on the skin can only mean one thing… sweat patches (and body odour). I’m sure we’ve all fallen foul of an inappropriate sweat patch at some point in our lives, whether its armpit leakage, back waterfall or those sweat lines your belly produces where your skin creates rolls. We all sweat yet it’s likely that we all still mouth “look at those sweat patches” because it’s FUNNY until it happens to you.


Sleeping in this kind of heat is impossible. Absolutely and utterly impossible. My hair sticks to my face, I rotate my pillow every 3 minutes for that “aahhh” release you get when your face hits a cold spot, my usual duvet gets kicked to the floor in favour of a light weight sheet which then sticks to my legs and tangles me in a web of displeasure.  I wish I could say that I wake like above with a fine sheen of post orgasmic sweat on my body, but in reality I’m a sleep deprived, humidity haired zombie with a sweat so glowing that I look as though I’ve been varnished.

Everybody else loving the sunshine then?