Sunday, November 9, 2008
i am as apprehensive waiting for the first big dump of snow, as i was anticipating the arrival of pubic hair. and like the sudden onset of facial toothpaste pustules, there are 'reality prompts' all over this arctic state.
the transition will require a new way of organizing myself in (sub zero) space, because skiing appears to be the proverbial 'poo after morning coffee' in the northeast; routine and expected. and as i have no transferable skills, i intend to compensate for this significant deficit, by at minimum, limiting the michelin man silhouette.
to date, i have accumulated wool socks, wicking baselayers, and even a rather cute knitted north face hat. however, this equates to trying to bake a dessert with just eggs and butter, in terms of 'slope readiness', and there is a qualitative difference between strawberry belgian chocolate souffle and 'scrambled-on-toast', during acute stage PMS.
things i learned in the tj maxx dressing room:
- ski pants should not be miami vice tight.
- trousers actually come with a "skirt".
- ski socks are supposed to be thin.
- a bum can look good under layers of jet-puf.
- i was onto something when i opted for the ginormous glasses at age 14 (rogue sandstorms in the middle east are just as damaging to the cornea as snow dust at velocity).
the arrival of frozen precipitation will finally kick denial in the 'fruit of my loins' spot. dressing for skiing is obvious- they teach you how to do that in the catalogues, my concern is what to wear when i nip out for a gallon of milk.