I am continually amazed at Midwesterners and how they react to the weather in the winter. This is the Midwest. Every year the weather gets cold and we have snow. In fact, this year it has been surprisingly, almost distressingly, mild so far. Still, people complain and whine and moan as soon as you get a couple of cloudy days strung together or, here in Chicago, the weather turns off of the lake and we get brisk winds.

I have written before about my love for winter. I enjoy the cooler months. There is a simple reason for that and that is because I am more comfortable with the idea of freezing to death as opposed to dying from heat-related issues. When you freeze to death you just kind of slow down and go to sleep. When you die from heat you sweat and your skin dries out and your lips crack and bleed and your tongue swells and you experience dementia and you burn up.

Also there is the fashion issue. I am certain you have seen some people out and about during the warmer months wearing clothes that have to make you wonder if they own mirrors or, perhaps, if the mirrors they are using are made in such a way that they do not actually see themselves as they really are. Look at Anna Nicole Smith back when she weighed roughly the same as a full-grown beluga whale. She would wear clothes that seemed only to accentuate the fact she was now roughly the same weight of a full-grown beluga whale and eyeing full-grown sperm whale status.

I, personally, hate my legs. I enjoy the fact that they still work and that I can stand up and walk but I hate how they look. They are white and flabby and hairy and, generally speaking, are not fit for human sight. I don’t enjoy looking at them and figure no one else really would either. Rather than find out after I have left the house without the possibility of changing I just wear jeans all of the time and that saves a lot of worry and concern. There’s too much to worry about these days than having to worry about my flab scaring small children.

You see some of these people, often at malls, walking around. They are often wearing jeans so tight you have to wonder how someone was able to get into them without Crisco and some sort of machinery. They are also wearing shoes, mostly open-toed, that also appear three sizes too small. Their cankles merge with the shoes with bulges that fall over the top straps and pudgy toes screaming from behind more straps like fugitives screaming from behind prison bars. On top they often wear something that might as well point directly to their rolls of fat with big shiny neon. You wonder of that shirt is really supposed to bare the midriff or if perhaps the shirt is normal sized but on Fattie Hoochie Mama it just turns out to be a midriff-baring shirt. They often walk around with purses and jewelry of the gaudiest type, often with gold, and bring as much undeserved attention to themselves as possible.

I firmly believe some kind of body perspective is needed. We no longer live in the times where the fattest people are the richest people and, therefore, the fattest people are admired. While the female form can certainly be fuller for my tastes, there has to be a point where reason takes over. I don’t mind a woman with extra pounds as long as she is aware of the fact she has them and that not everyone in the world really wants to look at them bulging out from ill-fitting clothes.

You don’t run across this quite as much in the winter. This means everyone looks relatively pleasant. The rolls are hidden beneath sweaters and sweatshirts and long sleeves. This means the parts of the female anatomy most of us males like to look at are accentuated such as the breasts. Of course, the sweaters should be reasonable as well. If your sweater makes you look like some kind of billboard or perhaps a circus tent you should be aware of that as well.

I like having to wear my leather jacket. You just can’t get away with wearing cool jackets in the summer time unless you just happen to be in a western movie. You know the ones I am talking about. Mostly they are directed by Sergio Leone or Sam Peckinpah. You just see whole armies of guys standing in what is obviously the desert and surrounded by sweaty people who look like Mexicans and they are all wearing floor-length duster coats. At least most of the time the movies allow them to wear light-colored dusters which would make them about half a degree cooler, but sometimes they are even there in the dark or black dusters. You just have to wonder about that. Did cowboys really wear long coats like that in the middle of the desert? Did a lot of cowboys die from heat exhaustion?

For me there is nothing better than a snow storm. Snow makes everything look sparkling and clean and white, at least for the first few hours after the snow falls. Eventually the snow turns gunky and black and nasty and slushy but for a while everything looks new. There is nothing more beautiful than a schoolyard filled with white snow untouched by anyone. You can then leave your own footprints as you walk through and leave your own mark. You can also make snowballs and snowmen. You really can’t do that when it rains.

Of course you always hear the weathermen talk about the late-winter rainstorms. They all speak with relief about the fact that the precipitation is rain rather than snow. To me, this is not good news. Rain could mean flooding. Rain could mean soggy wet leather jackets. Rain means ruined shoes and huge puddles. Rain can also mean thunderstorms and thunderstorms can lead to tornadoes and tornadoes do not make the world look sparkling and bright and clean. Tornadoes have this tendency to make people look dead and houses look like tiny sticks. A neighborhood scoured to the ground by a tornado is not the same as a neighborhood covered with beautiful crystalline snow.

So, for me, winter will always be better than summer. Fall will always be better than spring. Too many people dwell on the dark parts of both of those seasons and forget to admire the beauty and look for the positives. Sure the leaves are falling and the plants are closing up but they are just making room for the sledding and snow-shoeing and skiing. Also you are missing the stunning beauty of the leaves changing color which I will gladly take over a humid, miserable, hot July day any day of the week and twice on Sunday. I will also gladly take a blizzard over a thunderstorm with those same odds.

So, you go one and keep whining. I will be the one going for the pleasant walk in my hat and leather jacket, looking cool, while you sit inside your house and moan.

Bryan W. Alaspa’s novel Dust is available in print and eBook format at his website www.bryanalaspa.com and www.amazon.com.