Ah, Spring is here.

If you live in Utah, or anywhere else that people complain about, but could never imagine leaving, you know that the title is a joke. Water cooler talk(kind of a stretch, as I avoid anywhere that might make me actually talk to a co-worker) is full of disses about the recent snow now that it's April. As if any of us even step outside for a majority of the day. And since we are not dogs or college students, even if it was nice weather, in all likelihood, we wouldn't be "tossin' the frisbee." Don't get me wrong, I love nice weather and I will be THRILLED when it arrives.

However, the real tragedy is that when it actually does come, I will be the first to do my best impression of the Resurrection (I'm offensive) and unveil the whiteness that is my skin. I can't wait for shorts and open-toed shoes. Nothing like putting the fetal pigs that have become your toes into a pair of sandals and going shopping, only to be thinking the entire time that everyone knows this is your first day back in warm-weather clothing. In reality, the real indicator that Spring is here came last night. Nothing says that the winter is finally over like bending over and splitting a giant hole in your pants. Of course that hole is not down the seam of your pant, rather, it is located right between the thighs and is only made possible from your growing winter tree trunks rubbing vigorously against eachother from November until March (Kellee, you don't know what I'm talking about, feel free to move on). Who was I to think that Denim could withstand such an assault? Luckily there was no flint stone near by, or I may have ignited. If only that hole was positioned a little further down the leg, I could make a pair of whimsical cutoffs and build a bridge to Terabithia with my best boy friend. But, alas, there is no time for any of that anyway.

So, don't be surprised if I might feel a bit relieved when Dan Pope adjusts his hair and tells me that the Live 5 VIPIR (as if I know what that is) predicts cool temperatures and light snow for the rest of the week. Self-consciousness and humiliation delayed for a few more days. Phew.

(What I wished I looked like in shorts)

(What I'm afraid I might look like in shorts)

No need to leave comments in which you try to restore my self-esteem. This is not a cry for help. I would be much more clever than that.