Cold is an interesting thing. We all treat it like a tangible thing, but really, it’s just the absence of heat. Cold doesn’t even exist. But it seems so real to us and our senses that we treat it as its own entity which comes creeping into our houses, finding the tiniest cracks in the windows and slowly oozing it’s way closer and closer to our shivering bodies. It slithers like a snake, eagerly sapping what life energy we have, constantly searching for gaps and crevices that it can slip into.

But, for some reason, I love it. I love the cold, the feeling of snuggling up under a blanket to keep warm, feeling the cold brisk wind on my face, wriggling my toes to see if they are still attached to my foot, and watching my fingers slowly lose their dexterity. This is what I thrive off of, this is what keeps me alive.

I went sledding the other day. The brilliant genius that I am, I decided that I didn’t need to wear my snow pants because  jeans would suffice. I also had no need for actual snow gloves, or snow boots; I grabbed my knit mittens and silly little fashion boots, tied my hair into pigtails, shoved on a hat, wrapped myself in a scarf, threw on my rather long black creeper trench coat, and toddled out the door. Common-senseless girl strikes again…

Kenya bought crazy carpets for $2 at Dollarama, and the four of us set out to conquer some hills. The first hill was pretty steep and slick, and one by one we found our own special track and dove down the slippery slope. But then I had a problem; I couldn’t get back up. Emily’s fashion boots had NO traction. Whatsoever. I discovered this when I tried to run up the hill… and my boots started slipping… and I slid backwards. I looked around to make sure no one had seen me epically fail and, to my relief, they hadn’t. So I took a running start and tried again. And slid back down again. And again. And again… It was fairly pathetic. Everyone had noticed by now and was trying to give me helpful tips, but it just wasn’t happening. I became quite frustrated. I felt like a pathetic American who can’t even climb a snowy hill. Eventually, I gave up all sense of dignity and crawled up on all fours. In my jeans. The ground was cold. Not my best moment, to say the least.

My trench coat was also not the most ideal piece of clothing for snow frolicking. It is made of wool. Snow stuck to it. By the end of our play date, I was covered head to toe in snow, looking like an anorexic snowman. Snow stuck to my fashion boots, my knitted gloves, my scarf, my hat, and most of all my black coat. I imagine I looked quite silly.

And my jeans… made me cold. Snow went down my pants, into my boots, and my jeans got incredibly caked with snow. My legs basically froze until I had no feeling left. Do you ever get so numb, that you’re pretty sure if your pants fell down by some unfortunate circumstance, you would be clueless? Your pants could be down around your ankles, and you’d feel no difference. It’s a very dangerous place to be in, and it makes me paranoid that I’ll look down and suddenly be pantsless. That’s how I felt. Luckily, my trench coat is long enough that it would cover my bum in the event of unexpected pantslessness. Whew.

Eventually I was cold and snow caked and I ended up just waddling back to the car, like a little child who is insanely bundled up by their paranoid mother. When I got inside, the snow started melting until I was a gigantic black sopping mess. My legs were frozen. Even after I changed pants, for a good hour afterwards, I got this feeling that I was radiating cold. You know how, if you’re really hot, you feel like you’re radiating heat? Imagine that, but with cold air. Like there was this huge pocket of cold air being created by my lower limbs and being held hostage in my pants legs, and I was a walking human ice cube. It was actually a pretty cool feeling (no pun intended… haha)

You might think that this was a negative experience, and maybe I’d get some sense and realize that snow is cold and evil. But no. The blame was not the snow’s, but was mine to take. For not wearing appropriate winter clothing. I love the snow more than ever, and it was an amazing afternoon, full of love, laughter, and wrestling in the snow.  The snow is, and always has been, my absolute bestest friend ever. Take that, snow haters. Don’t b hatin’. And I don’t care if you’ve seen it on 4 chan b4.