I’m fat. I’ve mentioned that in columns past, right? And when it comes to weather, summer heat is like the pudgy man’s kryptonite. I simply loose all my powers of persuasion, charm, humility, and common sense when the temperature gets beyond a certain point. My frustration grows in summer, when the simplest tasks like putting on your belt in the morning looks and feels like competing in a grueling Olympic event.

Yet, as is the definition of insanity, every summer I get excited about the coming of the season, hoping each year for something other than hot, sweaty discomfort for three months.

So why do I get excited about the season of sweating? I always recall days enveloped in the sweet smell of fresh cut grass. I recall bountiful and tasty steamed seafood dinners and the oh-so-awesome aroma of a culinary ceremony so beautiful it needs only three letters to describe its splendor: B-B-Q. Most importantly, though, the summer signifies a coming alive of the people – that gets me going. It truly seems to me that people are more like bears than we know – we hibernate and only let our glorious faces see the light of day when it’s warm. But rather than going inside this summer, as I tend to do, I want to be out there with the young, the excited, the less pudge-laden types I call “summer folk.”

And to add insult to my summer restrictions, I live across the street from the beach and I am forced to watch “summer folk” taking their coolers and beach towels out to the sand for a day of unbridled merriment. And I so desperately want to join you good “summer folk” for a sandy romp through the summer air, especially when my friends come calling to go out to the beach. But I think there is a crucial rule to life that my less robust friends don’t understand: You should not play with beach balls if you’re shaped like one.

But I will forge onward, though we are going headlong into a season not intended for the robust, taking the good with the bad. I will cherish the inspiration through my perspiration this summer and remain envious of you “summer folk.” I hope to someday join your ranks, but until then I will seek refuge from the blistering heat beneath the subtle hum of a giant air conditioner.