Preparing for winter

Winter can’t make up its mind. One day, it loves us. The next day, it snows a record three feet.

People claim to enjoy winter because of the feeling they get when they come inside from the snow. I can’t begin to understand this in the slightest, since all I want to do when I return indoors from snowy weather is submerge myself in hot water.

But I find that I do well in winter. I suppose it suits me. The chill allows me to hide my accumulated layers of fat beneath thick sweaters.

If I lived in a warm climate, I would have to attend to issues of weight maintenance, tanning and hair removal, none of which I’m very consistent with — I can barely remember to exercise or tweeze my eyebrows.

I also would be clueless if I couldn’t get away with wearing seasonally-ambiguous scarves for three out of four seasons. So California’s out.

Also, I don’t think I would do well in a place of perpetual warmth because of my arms. I have noticeably muscular arms, which has always bothered me.

Whenever people lightly touch my arm in conversation, their eyes go wide, and they make a face as if to say, “That doesn’t belong there.” and tell me something in jest like, “Whoa! Nice biceps.” during which I crawl into an emotional hole and throw earth on myself until my arms are completely immersed.

It wasn’t until the era of Michelle Obama biceps and the Tracey Anderson method a la Gwyneth and Madonna that bigger arms became OK. And thank goodness. I really could not have asked for better timing on that.

However, I would still have a hard time in continuously sleeveless weather.

I’ve reached the consensus that the only thing worse than winter is not having it. So the next time I complain about ruining my shoes or having to walk to class in the snow, I’ll think, “At least it’s not nice out.”

­— chkent@indiana.edu
Follow columnist Chloe Kent on Twitter @the_real_ck.