Fall is most definitely in the air in Northern Minnesota. I love Fall. The leaves, the temps, the lack of mosquitoes…I digress.
One thing I DON’T care for is the urge to freakin EAT all the time! WTF?
So as autumn sets in and winter is just around the corner once again I’ve come to the conclusion that I am part bear.
Teddy bear? Frick no. Probably more like a grizzly bear. When the outside temps dip below 40 and the leaves begin to turn, bears begin their tradition of eating everything in sight, getting fat and then heading for their cave to sleep it off for the next 4-5 months.
Every year those same urges seem to come over me.
For me the uncontrollable urge to give into my inner bear starts about the same the time every year. Beginning around what I call “eating season” (or some wiser folks would call “The Holiday Season”) I begin my “farewell to food tour” which usually entails eating everything in sight and eating often. It’s my personal prequel to my annual New Year’s Resolution which is, (shock, shock) for me is to lose weight.
So like a bear, fat and sassy into the winter season I go. But here’s where that darn bear has one-upped me. He can take his chubby self into the cave, SLEEP through the coldest and most miserable part of the winter, and wake up in the Spring, hungry, ornery, and THIN.
I, like our friend the bear, welcome Spring by being hungry and crabby….but crabby because I’m down to two pair of pants that fit and the thought of exposing any part of me between my eyeballs and toes to the general viewing public is terrifying.
I can see it now. The calendar will read “Spring of 2014″ and I will be not only anxiously waiting for the green grass to peek through that last glaze of snow, but also performing a quick visitation of summer wardrobe that once again I won’t be able to wear. Shorts? Ain’t happening this year. Capris? Only if I’m feeling brave and am not out of self-tanning lotion. Cap sleeves? Not in this lifetime.
Maybe I will get lucky this year and there will be a new special summer clothes section for Yogi Bear-shaped-forty-something-Mothers-of-two. In the meantime, I will just have to grin and not “bear” it