Snowhere to go but up

By conducting an in-depth study, using cutting-edge technology and complex algorithms, I have determined that my depression progresses over the winter months as follows:

This pathetic fallacy happens every year. As winter begins I find the first snowfall to be really romantic, the city looking like it has been dusted with a fresh layer of icing sugar. Even the second snowfall is fine, I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth. But with each subsequent downfall thereon I get more and more depressed. It’s not just that I have yet to find mittens or gloves that keep my hands warm without immobilizing them, or even that the long johns I wear from October to May add 10 pounds-though both these things are certainly irksome.

It’s that, you see, I am extremely sensitive to the power of suggestion and thick, grey slush up to my knees suggests to me that things are pretty bleak. And that “100% waterproof” doesn’t mean what boot manufacturers think it means.

My psyche, as imaginative as it may be, is just no match for the cosmos. Try as I might to steel myself off from the influences of the barren winter landscape, by January, my once unaffected outer shell cracks like an M&M to expose my nutty, little core. As the temperature drops and the treacherous ice along the area of sidewalk only in front of my house thickens, my mood devolves from “I can’t wait for spring” to “what do I have to live for and if natural resources are depleting as fast as Al Gore says they are, wouldn’t the world be a better place without me?”

The problem is, I don’t know how to store up enough happiness in my cheeks during the warmer months to last me through the winter. So when the cold season hits, I compensate by eating bread, pasta and any other carb I can get my hands on. At the rate I’m going, soon there won’t be enough room in my baby blue long johns for both me and happiness, even if I had some!

I am determined to not let this happen; I can’t afford new winter wear right now. I’ve considered the options and there is really only one solution. I just need to move somewhere that is warmer than Toronto until the scene outside my window stops looking like a Prozac ‘before’ ad.

I’ve been looking into all sorts of tropical locations, replete with lush greenery and open-toed shoes. I am looking for a place where I can feel the warm sun on my face year round, a place that doesn’t ship out its elderly for several bitter months of the year. I’ve begun pulling out all my warm weather gear so I’ll be ready to go just as soon as I find the perfect relocation spot.  But as I hold up my bathing suits and sun dresses, looking them over, I have to admit they appear much more constricting than my long johns and fleece hoodie. The hat head from my floppy sun hat is far worse than that from my earmuffs. My strappy sandals, it’s true, are not nearly as comfortable as my fuzzy slippers. And I love scarves.

On second thought, perhaps the light from my computer screen will provide a sufficient glow to lift my spirits during these frigid days.

Of course, if any of you have better ideas for beating the winter blues, other than gaining weight in front of a lap top, please do share!

Also, to be inspired during this cold spell by my amazing friend’s journey to learn how to cycle and raise money for cancer, check out: fatmanlittlebicycle.blogspot.com. His tenacity is as uplifting as his wonderful writing.