On Being Canadian

Yesterday the temperature here rose to a blazing 9 degrees (almost 50 on the good old scale) and I was amazed at the change in dress of a few people brought on by such a short interlude from the freezing temperatures we have had this month. Gone, albeit briefly, were the winter jackets and pants. For one day - and one day only - the bulky winter clothes were replaced by short skirts and skimpy tops. Cleavage, which has been sorely lacking during these past few months of cold weather, was finally on display. It got me to thinking why it is we love being Canadian and put up with these winters.

Being Canadian (specifically male) is like hitting yourself over the head with a hammer. Why do we do it? Because it feels so damn good when we stop. That is what a Canadian winter is all about. For more than 6 months we males are unable to enjoy the finer qualities of females who are constantly bound up in large featureless overcoats, puffy warm sweaters, and most sadly - long, drab skirts or pants. Sure we often catch a glimpse of the winter female face, the features softened by streams of cold induced condensation, as we pass them in the street. In truth though, during a long Canadian winter, it sometimes seems that every attractive female has fled the country to parts unknown.

But come the warm gentle breezes of spring, Canadian males begin to salivate in anticipation of the yearly ritual known as ‘the shedding of the winter clothes’. That day when the skimpy tops return allowing winter whitened tummies to bask in the ever-warming sun. That day when the legs are finally shaved, displayed publicly, their silky smoothness radiant in the low sun angle of the spring months. That special day when breasts are removed from their winter constraints and are free to travel once again unfettered as nature had intended.

Sure, in warm countries females have no need of these bulky clothes and accoutrements and therefore wear this type of clothing 12 months of the year, but Canadian females do it so much better. I believe that the anticipation and enjoyment of the Canadian male is directly related to the over compensation for winter practised by the Canadian female. Women realize that they only have a few brief months to shine in the sun as it were and they make every effort to exhibit their finest qualities. You see, in Canada, come that day, the skirts are just that much tighter and shorter, tops are worn to show a tantalisingly bit more cleavage, bums are more tightly compressed into jeans and seem to bounce with a bit more aggressiveness, toes are finely painted and proudly displayed, hair is washed and conditioned to perfection, and breasts - ahhh those magnificent unfettered breasts - seem to lift themselves upwards, nipples proudly searching for the warmth of the sun overhead.




Unfortunately this morning it is back to freezing temperatures so now I must off to the basement to retrieve my hammer and continue the winter ritual of the Canadian male.