Another snowstorm just blanketed the Midwest. Our souls yearn for Sprightly Spring, but Wooly Winter shows no sign of slackening her icy grip. Punxsutawney Phil has gone back into hibernation and so have I.
That little vestige of prehistoric brain that we all have has kicked into survival mode. It instinctively goes about the business of putting on another layer of fat; the key to surviving this long, cold winter. Cravings for rich, dense foods have intensified. Eons of evolution overrule modern standards of beauty.
As I huddle in my Snuggie, flipping through TV channels with half a pan of brownies in my lap, a single question runs in a continuous loop through my mind, burning to be answered:
Ladies, what’s your policy on shaving your legs in the winter?
Inquiring minds want you to take this poll.