the vanity and the agony of february

 

feBRRuary. Uncanny the way we celebrate Valentine’s Day in the dead of winter. At least for those of us residing in the more Northern seasonal zones……But truly, what would the sad-and-pasty among us do without it?      It is about LOVE you know, that unconditional guarantee of not-aloneness…right?

by Feb. 14th I know I need a dose..minus the chocolates. Not that I don’t want those too.

We all know some of those well-adjusted folks out there who have mastered the art of staying lean, mean and bronze year round. They dutifully climb inside tanning beds, or into some sort of body shop for re-painting humans. They run on treadmills, work weights, ski regularly…they are doing it right now, while I write this…and sometime in March (or before) they redeem air miles for the tropics, where they soak up real sun, listen to Jimmy Cliff,  and sip Green Ouzo Margaritas, recharging their sexy to forge on until June’s warm rays once again claim us all in the northern hemisphere.

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This blog writer is  not one of those kind of folks.

I hang in there ’til well past Thanksgiving. The summer tan hangs on, and I continue my healthy outdoorsy pace of hiking and biking despite frosty cold. Snow, even. Top of my game, momentum is way up.  I find myself jumping into chatter about such things as age, eating habits, and similar tedium with more  enthusiasm than is called for from any mature thinking adult person.

The snow gets deep(er). Around here, we get blasted with arctic air for weeks at a time. Christmas holidays happen. Holiday cookie gifts happen. Eggnog. Other drinking. Sun does not happen. More drinking. Less motivation. Many more naps. Soon after, a fateful line is crossed where, torn between a nap or strapping on the snowshoes, Nap wins (I curse you, wretched Nap! But, I love you so..)

And so, the Cycle of Winter Weight Gain..and humility..begins, again.

Found myself standing on a medical scale in a hotel fitness room this past weekend, staring depressedly at the final resting place of the sliding weights in front of me. The ugly truth:  Up four pounds. On a little person. Jeezus. hey, the statuesque among you can just SHUT UP right now with your sarcasm if you don’t get it.  I wasn’t shocked, but the denial of just how much I’d gained was over. Next, a quick assessment in the well-lit hotel mirror re-confirmed that my toasty bronze shield had, most decidedly, been replaced by the pale greenish-yellow color some call “olive” but which I call “swamp thing.” Swamp thing with chicken pox, more accurately, as wierd spots reemerge like beach jetsam at low tide. Super-attractive.

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Low tide, lol.  That’s one way to describe my now-corresponding (lack of) libido.

  lol, get it?

How do so many do it? I mean DO it? Stats show that over 10.5 thousand U.S. babies are born EACH DAY in October, November and December of every year, so counting nine months back means that the months of January through March are, by this measure, full of thousands of  nakedly conjoined bodies. Are these all wealthy, tanned resort people, or just regular, mediocre folks, like me, with no vanity, unlike me? I know there are, like, a bajillion other mediocre people (or should I say, WOMEN, since we all know that exactly none of this humility stuff applies to men) out there…so how can the seasonal change into lesser-attractiveness not matter to such a great number of them? Less daylight to battle with maybe?  Shorter days do mean longer nights. Hmm. Longer nights. Lots more dark. Add a couple rum toddies–or, I mean, whatever mediocre people are drinking these days– and some  firelight(-esque) enhancement…and

Viola!..ze  playing field  es now  levile?

Shag City for the masses, apparently.

now what’s my excuse?? 

Hmm.

Sleeepy. Definitely time for a nap. Maybe a chocolate will help! Maybe it’ll be a caramel nougat!  Man am I glad someone loves me right now, in yet another February of my pathetic existence

Incidentally, stats show that THE MOST babies are born in:

1) Sept         2) August          3) July

which means that THE MOST POPULAR  months for sex (at least the babymaking kind?) are:

1) Dec          2) Nov                3) Oct

This makes sense to me! October and November have always been my favorite months for everything. Something in the air, for sure.  ..and still feeling summer-issue..  That nip, those turtlenecks and dark wool overcoats…add the Autumnal cognac or cabernet…more ellipses…

Yes, good! Breathless with anticipation! But for now, I’m going to slip into something more comfortable, oh! like a little nap! See you in June.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Learning the hard way
    Feb 25, 2013 @ 12:09:40

    I feel your pain, although we are day 14 of 30 degree celsius days (86.00-ish F?) and combined with stupidly muggy nights I am too damn wrung out to face meaningful exercise. I’m countering weight gain with generous gin and tonics..it’s medicinal, ok? Anaemic skin tones are not helped by patchy sunburn in the skin cancer capital of the world, sunbeds are illegal and faux tan in a tube renders one tandoori-esque. I quite agree that autumn is by far the happiest season. Sun with a fresh edge. Thanks for the Northern perspective! 🙂

    Reply

  2. dianadi65
    Feb 25, 2013 @ 17:27:30

    haha–humid & sweaty is def no fun, either. I grew up with plenty of that back in Connecticut.

    “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”
    ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

    Reply

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