Despite the cold temperatures, not all birds have migrated south for the winter.

When I stepped off the flight from Los Angeles to St. Louis and onto the jet bridge, my eyes watered as I saw my sigh literally form into a sad little cloud. I was back in the freezing weather where I had to wear Uggs not because they look cute, but because I don’t want my feet to get frostbitten and subsequently amputated. Outside the airport, everything was white and I was blue.

No one enjoys winter, yet as a society we find reasons to pretend.

The temperature has officially plunged, leading me to question whether or not “in St. Louis” should be exchanged for “in the North Pole.” For many hardened northeasterners, this is what is to be expected. But as an expatriate of the South, I found this time of year to be quite the surprise as a freshman. I discovered what real winter was.

They say you’re not paranoid if it’s true. Well, in my case, I can assure you that I am in fact very sickly. While you were playing with blocks in kindergarten, I was at home with a fun case of walking pneumonia.

Envision a picturesque winter football game. Snow flurries dust the lightly blanketed turf. Players huddle together on the sidelines, trying to stay warm. The fans, bundled in an assortment of jackets, hats, gloves and scarves, brave the cold to will their favorite team to victory. It all seems so romantic, doesn’t it?

It gave us many things: an excuse to stay inside, a reason to sleep in, an answer to why a few pounds may have settled around our midriffs. “Because it’s winter and it’s cold outside. Shorter days mean longer nights and more sleep in the first place. Gaining fat in preparation for hibernating during the winter is a vestigial evolutionary trait from a distant mammalian ancestor…” we were able to answer in chorus.