We’ve had a lot of snow this year.
As a result, my already backward fashion sense has sunk to new lows. I have discovered that I can wear four layers of clothing to work and be perfectly comfortable. “Aren’t you cold?” ask my shivering colleagues. “No, and I’m not this fat, either.”
My wardrobe consists of tall, fleece-lined boots that come up over my knees, leggings, high-tech thermal undie tops, wool skirts, turtlenecks and cardigans. I wear all of this simultaneously and am probably impervious to bullets.
Happily, because I live and work in old, slightly damp buildings, I am static-free. If I went somewhere chic (or at least, more water-tight), I could electrocute people with a simple dance move. Even the most cursory ear-scritch would enable me to affix house pets to the ceiling. Please, someone, take me somewhere with deep-pile carpeting so we can try this out! In the name of science, I beg you.
In the spring, it will look as though I am successfully dieting, as I gradually shed layers.
But for now, my look is on the cutting edge – of the ice planet Hoth.
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