I loved the story

The letter were lame...a change of pace at Salon.

Sorry Rachel, but your complaints about the misery of summer in NYC fall pretty flat. So you're hot and sticky and have no interest in going to barbecues (apparently her friends don't know what a grocery store is or how to grill something that it's cooked). Your large breasts prevent you from doing anything physical or wearing cute little sundresses. Friends have the audacity to plan vacations and not stick around to mope with you.

Allow me to call "bullshit" on these complaints. I'd lived in NYC most of my life before moving out to Long Island and I had always loved the summers. I loved taking a little time off from work and killing an afternoon in Central Park where it was always about 5 degrees cooler. I could go down to South Street Seaport and visit quaint little shops (mostly chains now, sadly) and having a cold drink at one of the waterside bars at night with friends. I could walk aimlessly about the city, ducking into stores when I needed a dose of AC, or visit museums and galleries.

NY has a great deal to offer for summer entertainment. Decent public beaches are a subway ride away. You can take a Circle Line cruise around Manhattan and enjoy the breeze for a few hours. The Greenmarkets are getting in the local peaches and berries from the tri-state farms. Of course, that does mean actually leaving your apartment and going outside.

As for your friends, maybe their new activies should be a cue to you to actually find a life for yourself instead of "cocooning" yourself in darkness like a toadstool. Vacations don't have to be extravagant or cost a fortune. Hell, local tourist destinations like the Poconnos and Lancaster Co. PA are begging for visitors and offering all kinds of discounts. Even a weekend away from home can make a world of difference. But that would mean actually getting out and planning something instead of sitting at home bemoaning how your friends have abandoned you.

If you think that NY is bad during the summer, try Paris in August where most places aren't air conditioned and the locals flee to the beaches in the south. Or Tokyo which turns into a humid cesspool. Or Las Vegas where you simply give up on doing any outdoor activities after sunrise. NYC is a summer paradise compared to them.

So stop bitching and try to have a little fun. Buy an AC for the apartment and get yourself out of the house and into the sun for a few hours. And large breasts certainly should not be an excuse to hate summer. I used to be a 42FFF before I had a breast reduction and somehow, I managed to survive. I was able to wear a bathing suit (look on the internet, they're amazingly easy to find now), and with a good bra I was able to wear tank tops, summer dresses and whatever else my little heart desired. I ran, swam, rode horses and went white water rafting.

Sorry to have absolutely nil in the way of sympathy, Rachel. I do get the feeling that you would somehow manage to suck the fun out of any situation.

You lived in Nebraska.

I heave my knapsack over my shoulder and trudge out into the sticky Nebraska heat, crestfallen. It wasn't that I liked school so much. It's that I hated summer.

NaCl Solution

Often at the near seashore,

sweating amid discarded rubbish;

we see our own ruin in half eaten fingers

of grey pink hot dogs. Encased

by remnants of buns, still wearily stained

wth that green-yellow mustard,

the artifical relish compliments

to a bland life packaged without spice.

On tongues of beach washed by memories,

popsicle sticks angle against foamy currents,

marking graves of past promise.

Placed between diminished longings,

among pretty forms of countless shiny shells.

Collected and held to ears.

Summoning images of the sea.

Imagining sounds reverberating

from shadows of waves, as they crash forever.

For here are work-a day adventurers,

struggling as they reach out only to find

themselves at the end of tarred highways.

Their futures mortaged. Readying to dip

wiggly toes, into raging roars of doubt.

Plastic pails and shovels abandoned,

forgotten with the changing tides.

Some of us gazing with empty eyes at

an unpredictable quantum ocean, as if we were

cottages and hotels - abandoned resorts

out of season. Ending dreamy vacations even before

they've begun. And I see brazen bathers, unaware

their blood flows with the identical

concentration of salt as does the sea,

carefully clinging to submerged

muddy footholds. Straining to feel

their own soles. And I see us, each daring,

to drown in a moist moment's hesitation, enduring

a secret sounding testing unfathomed depths.

And we bob between tides of indecision,

knowing life still flows however wildly,

until, we return again baited

to the sea's hypnotic hook.

I went to one that was very good. I went to another with only 1 decent counselor--practically everyone else was a TOTAL A-hole. I couldn't get ANY time alone unless I went to the "outdoor chapel" and pretended to be praying.

It sucked!

And yes, I hate the tyranny of the screeching dictators of Summer Fun! They're almost as bad as the purveyors of School Spirit.

Hail Autumn!

like another big breasted woman. I hate those melting "three-bra" days!

I'm having breast reduction surgery in a few weeks and it's covered by my insurance. Even though this is normally considered cosmetic surgery, if you have a history of back/neck pain, severe tension headaches, grooving in the shoulders, etc., many insurance companies will consider it a "medically necessary" procedure. While usually performed only on adults, some plastic surgeons will do the procedure on teen girls if the above conditions are severe. They also take the impact on self esteem into consideration.

Check with your insurance, have a consultation with a board-certified plastic surgeon, find out what's possible.

tomato sandwiches

Grew up in Mississippi. Nothing to recommend about summers there. Accordingly have always been mystified at the Sunday-supplement gushing about the wonders of the season. Have come to the conclusion that the supposed love of summer Americans feel is just another myth, like the one about how families love each other during the Christmas season, intended primarily to stimulate us to buy things. Drinks, air conditioners, melons, wading pools, tickets to carnival rides, grills.

After all, if we do not all feel exactly the same things at exactly the same times, how shall our behavior be successfully manipulated?