I don’t even check the weather anymore. I just assume spring is never coming and it will be cold and miserable forever. I’m starting to suspect that this eternal winter is actually an elaborate promotional ploy by HBO to get us all super pumped for the premiere of Game of Thrones. WE GET IT, HBO. WINTER IS SCARY.
…In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m feeling a little exhausted by winter. We’ve just had enough here in Canada. We’re over snow, we’re over wind chill, and we’re over our winter wardrobes. My friend Leanne also introduced me to the term “winter uglies” last week, and it about sums up what I’m feeling. What are the winter uglies? They are an overall feeling of “ugh”, resulting from the culmination of several factors:
1) Skin so pale, it’s nearly translucent.
2) Skin so dry, it’s cracked beyond rescue by even the most intense moisturizer.
3) Boots so salt-stained, they look like maps. Salty maps.
4) Sweaters so worn, they’re pilling and saggy.
5) Basically, it all sucks and everything is the worst.
This particular syndrome arrives mid-February. The uglies can continue well into late March unless treated with sunshine and frequent visits to any sort of patio. Since we’ve been denied any of that up here in the True North Strong and Free, the winter uglies are taking new victims everything day.
But there is hope. I’ve quit hoping for spring, and have instead found relief from the winter uglies under this newly thrifted Olsen Europe boucle jacket. I scored it at the Salvation Army last week for $3.50 (take away the decimal in that price and you get an idea of what these jackets usually retail for). This jacket has allowed me to break out my favourite pink shift from the White Elephant vintage dress sale last spring. If winter were a Dementor, this outfit would be my patronus.
If we were living with the warm, balmy temperatures of March 2012, I never would have bought this jacket, I never would have paired it with this dress, and I never would have worn it with this dickey (I also never would have written “dickey” on my blog, snicker about it, and prove to all of you that I’m an eight year old). This is the bright side to a dark winter.
If winter is intent on hanging around for a while, I have no choice but to slip on my salt-stained boots, and do all I can stave off the uglies for a few more weeks. At least I’ll be in my prettiest pink.