Apology to a Frigid Bitch

I need to apologize to my woman. I have selfishly betrayed her. In my defense, she has been a frigid bitch for the past few months, and I found comfort in my bed with two men.

I’ll let the initial shock settle in...

It’s April. It’s April 6th, and it’s still fricken freezing outside. My lover, Mother Nature, is holding the spring weather hostage, to punish me for my infidelity. Instead of spending my free time outdoors, frolicking in her green pastures of NYC’s parks, instead of taking the long way home, walking down the Hudson River, instead of enjoying one of the many outdoor cafes, I’ve been hold up in my bed with two very naughty men: Ben and Jerry.

Ordinarily, this time of year, I’m begging my woman to hold off on the heat wave for just a few more weeks whilst I hem and haw over my winter-weight gain. Truthfully, my “winter” weight has been a steadily climbing number, year-round, since the fifth grade. Except, last year, I finally buckled down and went to Weight Watchers, turning back the hands of time and the dial on the scale to my high-school senior weight. Starting in September, I felt lighter and better when the warm weather rolled around. I wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed of tighter-fitting, less-forgiving fabrics. I was happy to shed the layers of winter wear. That said, I never “finished” my program. I never “got to goal,” as my leader would say. Technically speaking, at 5 feet 3 inches, I should be a size four. But, to a girl who graduated college a tight fourteen, getting there really didn’t sound possible, or enjoyable. So, when I got to an 8, I rested easy…read: slacked off. By the time the following October rolled around, I wasn’t really doing the program; rather, I was making a weekly visit to the center and donation to the corporation. So I quit WW and turned back to the loving arms of the only men who will ever be inside me: B&J.

But spring is back. Again. Only this time, I’m not so excited for tight polo shirts and the occasional outing in a wife-beater. I’ve slid back a good 40% of the way to my starting point—and have no budget/desire to replace my spring wardrobe. And here’s the problem (read: excuse): All this cold weather is depressing me, driving me indoors, back to those delicious men from Vermont with all their sweet cream and chocolate covered nuts! I’m sick for the third time this winter—thus preventing any sort of work-out, it’s too cold to walk outside, and I don’t want to go to yoga for fear of turning into a salty popsicle when I step outside the studio into the frigid air.

So, I beg of you, my lady, my woman, Mother Nature: Please, bring back the heat! I want to walk through the city and breathe your air again! I want to lie in your sweet grass and gaze into your beautiful blue sky again! I promise, I’ll never touch those men again if you’ll just wrap your warm winds around me once more. I’m sorry mamma, I miss your lovin’ sunshine. I want it back. Please? I promise to go back to WW, I’ll get back to running in the evenings, come on baby, I’ll get hot for you if you get hot for me, what do you say?