Every year, I know the day is coming. The days get shorter, the temperatures lower, and my wine intake more impressive. It’s winter. Sooner or later, one has to relent to the notion that it is no longer acceptable to leave the home in layered sweaters or that cute pleather jacket everyone thinks is really expensive. No, that scarf will not keep you warm. We all must face the day when the temperature drops just below freezing and we are forced to put on…THE PUFFY COAT. Yes, friend, those incredibly large, form-consuming, bed-in-a-bag-with-a-zipper, puffy coats.
Pure vanity convinces me to be cold for weeks beyond my own good judgment, but eventually I give in and take out what will be my main outfit for the next three months. With an eye roll, I throw it on and waddle my way out the door.
It is then, that something magical happens. I step outside into the breeze and suddenly, I’m no longer a girl wishing to catch her death, oh no! I’m freaking Paul Bunyan and I could do this all day. I stride with confidence, knowing it would take more than a hefty gust of wind and a few snowflakes to bring me down. Frost on the car window? NO BIG! I’m a walking sleeping bag! Hands cold on the steering wheel? You better believe I’ve got 3 pairs of gloves stuffed in these pockets.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think it’s time to cut the puffy coat some slack. Who else protects you on laundry day? WHO I ASK? You could stroll right past the guy of your dreams, in the worst outfit of your year, and all he would see is your wicked smile and fresh hair-do. You’re Mila Kunis under there! You’ve got abs of steal, Jessica Biel!
It is even as I type these words, that I can see my trusty puffy coat; hanging there like it does, taking up too much space on the coat rack, and just waiting to protect me from the elements of winter. Cheers to you, my old pal. May you be recognized for the life-giving winter garment that you are and may you survive to persevere another year.