The Ge Spot is an adulting column written by “Cousin GeGe,” a 37-year-old, DC-bred skincare enthusiast and art aficionado, dedicated to honoring herself, feeding her love language, and striving to be less “uncouth” for her grandmother.
All it takes is one song to get me out the bed. The second song, I slide on bright pink flip flops. Tis the season and I’ve been cooped up for 300 days. I’m driving slightly over the speed limit attempting to rid myself of last year. It’s March and we’ve been given a glimpse of beautiful weather. I need a slurpee! I need another burnt hotdog; I’m eating it with a bun this time! F*ck seasonal depression! F*ck the cold! F*ck the sun setting before 5 PM. F*ck this mask (even though I’m gon’ keep wearing it). Syd is singing over whatever noise my car is making and this night air is what I’ve been waiting for… for 300 days.
I won! Life is good! My family is here! It’s been so much loss, but we are here! My workout clothes are starting to loosen. My bald head hoe Summer is getting some waist-length braids. Goodbye baby Tito Jackson fro! White toes and tattoos. It’s starting to smell like a lukewarm, semi-responsible season is upon us. I have waited for warmth. I’m using sick leave for frozen margaritas and steak nachos! USE YOUR PTO! I’m giving the masked smile-eye-squint all Summer.
I have recited the same prayer for 300 nights. “God please keep me here. Please keep and protect my household. Gran, please keep “Link” protected and surrounded by love.” We are here. We beat the dark and sadness and the fires around us. My car is filled with night air like healthy lungs. My singing is atrocious but these 63° shall catch these shimmies. I have waited 300 nights… for this.
