The Great Reveal

Spring is hovering. Or maybe it’s looming.

      

    After whining all winter about the weather, and pacing by the frost-covered windows, it’s time for me to face the music.

     As winters go, this one was a doozy, holding on with a vice-like grip. On the plus side, I had longer to conceal the result of that cold weather pasta, the really good bread with olive oil, and all the other food we consume as though we’re going to hitch up the oxen and lead them through eight-foot snow banks.

          The good weather is here, heaven help me, and I know what that means.

          I need to get reacquainted with my summer clothes, those trim little numbers waiting in the back of the closet. The short-sleeved tee shirts (anything sleeveless having been purged several pounds and wrinkles ago)! The capris! And, good Lord, the shorts!

Additionally, I need to accept that I’m also unveiling the moles and other strange things that have arrived, bag and baggage, over the years. At least the moles always guarantee a warm mother-daughter moment when I’m entreated to (“really, Mom!”) see my dermatologist. The annual news from him is they’re nothing to worry about.

 I can’t see them anyway, in their bivouac on my back.

And then once I adjust to spring, the yearly challenge of summer will be here before I know it: How to stay cool without each queenly wave sharing my bingo wings with the world.

The one winner (or maybe two) in all of this is my feet, exactly the same size they were in September. They will now able to hang out in sandals, each toe a cheery fuchsia.

And by the way, have you ever heard anyone say, “I need to lose two pounds off of my feet”?

This could be the answer men have been searching for as to why women are so obsessed with shoes.