“Winter Wonderland,” “White Christmas”…sugarcoat it all you want but winter sucks. Unless you are a skiing or snowboarding fanatic, you feel my pain. I didn’t even like sledding as a child; you got to the bottom of the hill, OK, then what? You run back up to the top, your hands numb, then do it again? Awesome.
Seeing my own breath has never fascinated me and a constantly running nose has never been a favorite of mine. There’s just no happy medium with winter. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. And now I’m going to complain in a more organized manner:
1. Layers (AKA pit stains). You get all bundled up to brave the cold yet, somehow, when you reach your destination your face is still frozen and you can’t feel your hands. And then you go inside where the heat is set to “desert.” You’re sweating before you sit down and spend the next 10 minutes stripping down as much as you can without being inappropriate. Which is difficult considering your white tank is now completely see-through.
2. Hot drinks. Yes the idea is wonderful, until you burn your tongue. Instead of your insides being warm, you can’t taste anything for a week. And you are still freezing.
3. Snow. It may look pretty from the warm comforts of you room, but once it’s inside of your shoes, not so much. Your socks would agree. And your toes. Assuming you still have them.
4. Bars without coat checks. Although I live in NYC, I don’t go “clubbing” or to any fancy spots that I could pay someone 5 bucks to hold my coat for the evening. My friends and I go to “those” bars; you know, the ones with beer pong in the back and a greater amount of beer on the floor than on tap. We bundle up, (as complained about in winter peeve number 1) and then have nowhere to put our coats! If we leave them on a bar stool, they’re goners. If we leave them on, our arms are too constricted to throw a perfect arc in beer pong. And no one can see that new tank top we insisted on wearing even though it’s negative 12 degrees outside.
5. Hibernation. It’s hard to motivate people to leave the house when the thermometer is reading 0 and no one wants to risk breaking an ankle on the icy streets. But there is only so much Say Yes To The Dress I can watch before I get a little stir crazy. And how am I supposed to meet a man when he’s hiding out under his (probably very dirty) covers for 3 months?