Holy shit … it’s finally winter. And like I promised, I refuse to bitch, cry, or whine about the take your breath away temps. Because at least I’m not sweating through my bra anymore, right? Right.
But as I dropped my last tissue on the disease-ridden ground on my way to the train platform, liquid from my nose streaming down my face … I realized something. I’m probably the least attractive person when it’s this bitterly cold out. And as I looked around, I realized no one is.
You think the cold would give your skin this beautiful rosy hue, something straight out of a rom com, right? The tip of your nose just a slight shade of pink. Hair perfectly curled under a flattering hat the actually covers your ears. A warm coat that keeps your feminine shape.
When it’s this cold, though, sometimes I wonder why I even bother putting on makeup in the morning. And it’s not because ol’ man winter pinched my cheeks, leaving them rosy, warm and glowing. No … instead he bitch slaps me leaving what I can only describe as a rosacea-like rash across my nose and cheeks for the rest of the day.
My lips are glued to my teeth because they are so chapped. And I most likely have tiny white saliva crusties (how about THAT visual) in the corners of my mouth from saying, “fuck, fuck, fuck” as the wind beats on my face as I walk.
I look like a shapeless blob in my parka. No curves, no waist, no taas. Just a round shapeless, sexless blob. And the more layers I wear underneath said blob, the worse it gets. One oversized sweater later and you begin to resemble the Michelin Man’s sister.
And my rather large head never fits any hats. I try … boy do I try. While I’m thankful they (kind of) cover my ears and stop them from freezing and falling off, is it worth the horrific hat hair for the rest of the day? Or the static electricity I get whilst trying to fix it that makes my hair stand up like a crazy person? I’ll never know.
I’m beginning to contemplate investing in one of those cotton face masks. I saw a guy walking down the street the other day rocking one with sunglasses and I thought, “that guy has his shit together.”
It’s not because I want to protect my skin or stay warm. No. It’s because I’m sick of people having to see me try to control my nose that is continuously running with one small used tissue I found at the bottom of my purse (I really have to invest in travel tissues) or … in dire situations … with my hand (I know … it’s foul, but what are my other options?!).
At this point, it’s best if people didn’t know if I was a human being or an alien when it’s this cold. A male or a female. An abominable snowman or the Michelin Man.
But all of that imagery above is still probably sexier than thinking about me sweating through my bra … am I right?*
*Seriously … to all the boys … don’t ALL rush to my yard at once.