The Truth Comes Out

This is going to be hard for me to admit, but I had to face an ugly reality today.

I. HATE. Being. Outside. Well, I hate being outside when the temperature is above 60.

I don't really know why I hate it, either. I love beautiful sunny days, I just enjoy them so much more from the comfort of my (mostly) bug free living room sitting my happy tushie on my couch OR whilst driving in the car with any heating or cooling needs I may have a mere touch of a button away.

I loathe bees, yellow jackets, flies, gnats, mosquitoes, spiders - any sort of creepy, crawly, or flying pest that dares invade my personal space requirements (that expands to a 20 foot radius)when I step foot outside the house. I hate the feeling of the sun beating down on me because it always makes me think of skin cancer and the smell of sunscreen seems to attract even more unwanted attention from bugs or bees.

Sit me in the shade with a fly swatter handy, and I'm good to go. Put me in the sun, and it's like I'm with Wicked Witch of the West in reverse...sunlight makes me melt. I'm in complete bewilderment how I ever survived so long living in NC, which feels miserably hot and humid to me after being away for six years.

What I really hate is why on earth I pretend to like being outside when I'm around a group of people that actually like it. I guess it's because I feel like announcing that I hate to be outside to be the social equivalent to announcing that I like to squash bunnies, kitties, and puppies with my bare feet (which I totally don't).

My mother loves to be outside and can not grasp why I do not. To be fair, I cannot grasp her love of all things outdoors, either. I love my pasty white skin, I love not having to swat at annoying pests, I love shade. I love cold weather. I'll stay outside in cold weather until I can't feel my fingers or toes with no complaint. I wonder if there's a support group for this or if I should move to Alaska or Antarctica.