Skirting winter

Ever since You’ve Got Mail, I’ve been a fan of the cute sweater set and skirt look. Except that in real life, winter is cold and not skirt-friendly. Also, I’m not Meg Ryan. Also, also, they require tights, and wearing tights makes me feel like I’m being strangled by an anaconda. A soft, patterned anaconda, but an anaconda nonetheless.

But, yesterday, upon hearing that it would reach a near 50 degrees, I reached into the back of my dark closet (land of pretty dresses yearning for spring) and said, “Winter, you will not defeat me.” I pulled on some toasty tights despite the persistent feeling of leg strangulation, along with a cute orange and blue skirt and a blue v-neck, and I was good to go. The warmth enticed me to walk instead of taking the bus.

Ten minutes in, I felt a splattering on my calves and remembered why I don’t wear skirts in the winter: winter breeds mud and mud loves to attach itself to my snake-strangled legs. Now, in addition to fending off the anaconda, I had freckle-like spots everywhere and looked like a patient in the throes of a funny-colored chicken pox outbreak. This would never happen to Meg Ryan.



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