Hot Girl Summer: An expression used primarily by women for the purpose of empowering one’s “inner hoe”, having fun, and loving oneself.
Ah, yes, Hot Girl Summer. It’s August and it’s supposed to be the year of YOU, the year of feeling yourself, the year of empowering your fellow hot girls. But what if you’re not… a hot girl? What if you’re a “my feet are always kind of cold” girl? The Hot Girl Summer agenda has been thrown onto your shoulders, boasting shaved legs and scandalous selfies. And that’s just not who you are.
From the Makers of Hot Girl Summer comes Cold Bitch Winter: it’s your season now.
We know that you’re your most confident self when you’re bundled in a parka, scraping snow off of your 2006 Toyota Corolla, screaming profanities into the howling wind. And that’s why, as soon as the first snowflake hits the ground, you will emerge from a pile of grey blankets and Cheeto dust, prepared for your moment.
To truly embody Cold Bitch Winter, you know that the summer months are your best chance at preparations. While the Hot Girls are sitting atop a male model’s shoulders at a Tame Impala concert, you’re riffling through your bathroom closet, chucking unused razors left and right, adorned in a Snuggie and three pairs of wool socks.
Don’t worry, though, like the Hot Girls of summer, you too will post on your social media accounts. There are three acceptable postings for the Cold Bitches of winter: a selfie taken from an under-the-chin angle, an Instagram story reacting to Elizabeth Warren’s stellar performance in the 2020 debates, or a lengthy, scathing review of Oprah’s Super Soul podcast. If you insist on using a hashtag, it should be #disappointed underneath a screenshot of the five-day weather report.
As a champion of Cold Bitch Winter, you seek to empower other bitches. Sighing heavily, ranting frequently, and putting on crusty Chapstick nearly 24/7, you and your fellow Cold Bitches are realists. Leave the Hot Girls and their delusions in the dust as you race past them with all-wheel-drive and top-tier snow tires.
Hot Girl Summer is about not wanting a man, but Cold Bitch Winter, well that’s about not NEEDING one. Forget the tan, because you’ve got the muscles of an MMA fighter from shoveling snow and carrying 50 lb. bags of ice melt 6 blocks to your apartment in the middle of a blizzard. On the rare occasion that your skin is exposed, you prefer for it to be chapped, pale, and possibly frost-bitten. Think a man still might want to steal your thunder? The residual runny nose you’ve had for the past three weeks should keep him at bay.
But the true power of Cold Bitch Winter is, of course, in the relentless bitching. Your intense love-hate relationship for Patagonia-brand down jackets and labor-intensive wood-stove fires will be well known, since you’ll complain about the winter months nearly every chance you get. So, ha.
Come December, almost all of the Hot Girls of summer will be extinct. Only a few lone stragglers will remain: struggling to put on an ice skate, sweating as they attempt to cut down Christmas trees, burning their mouths on almond milk hot chocolate.
And this, my Cold Bitches, is when we will rise.