Help! I misunderstood the brat girl summer trend and now I have a bunch of hot dog costumes I can't return

Summer 2024 was supposed to be my summer. I had worked hard all year and in June I finally had enough money to buy a whole new wardrobe. I opened TikTok for inspiration and there it was: Brat Summer.

A quick glance at the site gave me all the information I needed. Finally, a trend that combined my folksy sense of humor and my Midwestern heritage – while flattering my extremely long torso. Bratwurst summer was my ticket to fun on a bun.

4 costume shops and $3,000 later, I was the undisputed queen of Brat Summer.

It wasn't until I burned all my regular summer clothes in a trash can in my backyard that I realized my mistake. It turns out Brat Summer has nothing to do with bratwurst, hot dogs, or even glizzies. You know what else I found out? Costume shops in LA have much stricter return policies than names like Enzo's Costumes Gag Gifts and Rubber Entrails Emporium would suggest.

And now I'm just trying to take it in, like a 7-Eleven fried chicken. It's not going well.

At work, I tried to pretend I was in on the joke. You know, “I'm going to make some real calls today” and “I'm not sure where that report is – don't pester me about it.” That sort of thing. But my jokes weren't getting through. And I can't even take off the removable Velcro device (which I paid extra for) because it's so damn cold in the office.

On the weekends, I tried to portray it as a fun activity I was doing. I thought it would at least help me stand out on the dating scene, but all my talk about raw sex life got me kicked out of the bar.

I even shoved a pair of those little Charli XCX sunglasses on my head, but nothing helped. I scared away everyone within a foot of me, no matter where I went.

It wasn't until I got to the minor league ballpark that I started to feel comfortable enough to be my shining self. But that didn't last long either. Before the third inning, I was chased away by the officially licensed Nathan's hot dog mascot.

What I'm saying is that I don't want to be an Oscar Meyer sausage anymore. The universe has taken too many bites out of me. Send me help.