August is the month when summer becomes a thread-bare tank top. The material is soft with much washing. There are faint stains from the County Fair pizza drips, then the Fourth of July onion rings. Commercial grade grease never comes out. A little rip where snips used for dead heading the Zinnias slipped and almost stabbed me.
August is when those of us who should cover everything just can’t face the heat and ignore all the reasons that tank top and shorts are a visual crime. It’s just to hot for the over-shirts and capris that early in the summer created a neat, layered look.
August is the ratty tank top, lose shorts and a pony-tail.
3 comments:
Just this morning I told my husband that I needed to take off (we work together) for several weeks because I had exhusted my supply of of decent looking hot weather outfits. He was not impressed with my reasoning.
Ain't it the truth! August for me is the swimsuit worn so much the straps are falling down and I don't give a damn month. Not the swimsuit with the pretty pareo cover-up worn over it for guests, but the one with the elastic around the top where you can drop the straps and get sun on your shoulders without strapmarks one. After pulling them up and down all summer, getting it wet then dry then wet and then dry, the straps now fall down all the time. It's too late in the year to buy a new suit and besides, there's only another month or two of good pool time left anyway and there's no one to see in the backyard. So we let the straps dangle and float on our back; we'll worry about a new suit next year.
Ain't it the truth. Everything is wilted by August.
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