From the monthly archives: October 2011
No matter how you shake the snow globe, winter is problematic for single people. Cold weather not only signals the start of social hibernation, it also means it’s time to bundle up. Now, as a long-time resident of cold weather climates, I was forced to overcome my vanity long ago. From the months of October to April, I walk around like a snow hobo (or as I like to call it, “snobo”). If you’re looking for me, I’ll be the one wearing the neckwarmer, scarves, ear muffs, hat and multiple pairs of long johns. And while I may look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, padding my curves is not even my biggest concern with the Bundle Up.
See, every time I go for a run along the lake I see so many hot guys walking their dogs, running, or biking. One of these days I will offer up a coy left hand wave and they’ll notice my untethered bling finger, start up a conversation, and the next thing you know, we’ll be splitting protein shakes and pushing a double-wide stroller down the bike path. It’s really just a matter of time.
But when temperatures start dropping, that daydream is put on pause. Why? Because it’s glove season: now there is no way to know who’s single and who’s not.
That’s why I came up with a plan. Fear not Disasters! Here’s an easy guide to winterizing your game:
1. Start with a pair of gloves. (I like to go with black–it makes my hands look so skinny!)
2. Simply cut the ring finger off of the left hand. Note: Kitchen scissors will work fine for this.
3. Test drive the look in the mirror, to ensure you have optimal ring finger exposure.
And voila! Three easy steps to liberating your ring finger. You’re ready to hit the trails. Go get ‘em, Snobos.
Related Disasters:
Newsfeed newsflash: my Facebook Wall is experiencing a curious case of Benjamin Button.
My friends’ status updates used to be accompanied by profile pictures of smiling faces in wedding gowns, but then suddenly, something strange happened. Seemingly overnight, all my friends’ profile pictures have turned into babies.
It’s a virtual regression epidemic, and as more and more of my friends have babies, the more I’m called to duty as a Friend-Aunt (or “Fraunt” if you want to get technical about it). True, being a Frauntie has it’s benefits. On the plus side it means you’re part of the Inner Circle (you probably have the bridesmaid dress to prove it). On the down side, it means you owe a shit ton of baby gifts.
One of my college roommates is now a mother of two. When she delivered her first adorable bundle of joy I was in the hospital with flowers, a children’s book and a stuffed animal that sings. I even attended the first birthday party, and marveled at the way she made the cupcakes look like armadillos.
But when she gave birth to her second, I found myself Frauntie cash-strapped. Each baby store I entered blew my mind: a tiny stuffed monkey was $25. A onesie that said “party at my crib” was thirty bucks. I thought I could get off cheap by buying a cute pair of shoes (go with what you know) but those were $40, and would probably only last half a diaper change before he outgrew them.
I was on my way home, feeling totally dejected, when I passed the pet store. Something in the window caught my eye: a basket full of stuffed animals and a sign that read $9.99. Gold mine.
When I showed up at my friend’s house I handed her my gift, beaming with the pride of a second-time Frauntie.
“This is adorable,” she said.
“It’s a squirrel!” I said. “It squeaks! He’s gonna love it.”
“And you wrapped it so well, too. What was this on top?”
“Oh, that’s raw hide. They threw that in extra. I figured it would come in handy when he starts teething.”
