Probably lacking vitamin D now that I think of it...
For the past two years I have somehow managed to avoid summer. Instead, what I have done is moving back and forth, Sweden - Australia as to live out a sort of self inflicted "Groundhog day" state of perpetual winter.
I guess this would lead you to think "Wow, I guess those Swedes really do like their winter". Not so. Much to the confusion of people I meet here in Australia, when asked if I ski I truthfully respond no. The conversation that inevitably follows always goes something like this:
"Oh, so you're a snowboarder? Yeah I guess more people snowboard now." "No, not really. In fact I've never been on a snowboard. Or a pair of skis for that matter. It just never appealed to me." "(Puzzled pause)... really?" "No, I'm making all this up because I take joy out of making pointless jokes about not skiing."
(That last part is silent.)
Anyway, this is beside the point. What I was getting at is that no, I don't particularly enjoy cold weather or things associated with cold weather, so why am I doing this to myself? Is it possible that somewhere deep down in the murky depths of my subconscious I loathe myself and this is the subtle yet life draining punishment I chose? If so... wow. Pretty sneaky of you, me. It's like having an evil twin sister trying to sabotage my life for her own gain. Only more schizophrenic.
26-year old Swede living in exile in Melbourne with lovely Aussie fiancé, trying to cope with the every day challenges of being unemployed while waiting for her permanent visa to come through.
Drinks a lot of wine, enjoys the guilty pleasure of semi reality shows such as "the city" and "real housewives of Orange county" and has the annoying habit of emotionally breaking down every 30-45 days like clockwork.