Under Where?

Listen, whenever someone starts a sentence with the word “listen”, that should set off alarm bells in your head that what is to follow will be something you don’t really care to listen to.

So if you haven’t turned back now, you either trust me, or are curious to see which rabbit hole I’m going to run down this time.

You’ve been warned.

Here in Canada, it gets cold at the drop of a hat. Literally, you take your hat off and you’re toast. If you live in Quebec, you’re french toast.

Should’ve turned back when you had the chance.

As fall slips into winter, my bedroom gets really cold at night. The furnace does nothing in my room. It’s like the Little Engine That Could’s alter ego – the Little Engine That Couldn’t Be Bothered.

So I’m forced to sleep under three blankets and hire an elf, who will pour hot water on my face every half hour throughout the night. Half that sentence is true. You decide which part.

Meanwhile, during the summer, my bedroom is an oven at night. There is no happy medium, and if there is, it lasts for about a week in September.

There were times this summer where I woke up in the middle of the night and thought I was in a microwave. I had to get up and fan cool air into my room with the door. Elfs don’t work summers, sadly.

I think I’d rather be cold and have to put on layers, than be warm and have no more layers to remove. That sentence was not meant to sound weird, but I think you get what I’m saying.

About a month ago, the three blankets weren’t doing anything and I was freezing. Not sure how it came to me, but I decided I needed to invest in undershirts because they would solve my problem, surely.

I’ve never worn undershirts – the tank top kind, at least. I’m a naturally warm person to begin with.

At school I’d wear an “undershirt” during presentations, which was a tight-fitting t-shirt, so sweat stains wouldn’t appear on my dress shirt as I stood in front of a lecture hall of 80 people. Everyone in the class employed that strategy. I guess we all had the same fear.

So a few weeks ago I bought some tank top style undershirts. At the “professional” opinion of my dad, I got size medium.

I put that thing on and felt like I was trying to squeeze my body through a straw. It was so tight, I was about four seconds away from a panic attack. Then I had to get it off, which was a Top 10 struggle of my life.

If scissors were near by, I would’ve cut myself out of it.

After switching over to a size large, I felt so much better. It was still a tight fit, but not the “Squeeze the blood out of my body” tight. A more natural form of tight.

I thought, “Undershirts are basically Spanx for men and they just haven’t told us yet.”

I haven’t gone a day without an undershirt in the last month. They are glorious.

Shoutout to Stanfield’s for making a great product.

I had to mention them in here, just in case they want to pay me thousands of dollars to be a spokesperson. I’m not angling for a modelling deal, I like pizza too much.

Plus there’s something about having my body on the packaging of under garments that weirds me out.

Posting photos on Instagram is enough judgement for me, I don’t need to be hanging in stores, or be the first thing people see when they open a delivery box.

This may be the weirdest post I’ve ever written. Let’s continue!

The undershirts solved my problems, until it got colder outside.

And then it hit me – I need long underwear. You can call them Long John’s, but I don’t know who John is. On Twitter the other day I called them thermal underwear, but I’ve since realized they’re not exactly that.

“I’m wearing my thermies!”

“They’re not thermal. They’re cotton.”

“Oh.”

This is way too much information.

I blame my grandfather for this idea of long underwear being in my head. Growing up, he’d always mention them and how warm he was. I’d always scoff at it and think they were something old people wore.

Well call me a senior citizen and prepare my 4PM dinner because I’m rocking the long underwear, courtesy of Stanfield’s. Forever angling for that elusive endorsement deal…

Note: I also blame him for getting me interested in wrestling. He’d always come over and explain everything that was happening, while I just stood there and nodded, having no real idea what he was talking about. I was still single digits in age.

At this rate, I’m going to be raving about pears in ten years. 

Back to the long underwear, though.

I swear, I feel like a new person. I’m not sure how I lasted this long without them.

My initial reaction was: these are leggings for men except it’s not appropriate for me to wear them outside without pants. Now I understand why girls always talk about how comfortable leggings are.

They are a total game changer. I’ve never been warmer, or more comfortable in my life. These last few nights have been some of the warmest in recorded history – for me, at least.

They are underwear, but with the comfort of pyjamas. And they say sliced bread was a brilliant invention. Ha!

If I’m honest, and oversharing, this undershirt and long underwear combination will come in handy in March and April when it’s not that cold and not that hot. Those sleeps are going to be glorious.

At this point, I’m afraid I’ve said way too much and delved into things you don’t really need to know about, but who cares?

I highly recommend long underwear for the cold legs in your life. You can thank me later.

Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to post this and go sit in a corner and try to forget what I’ve just shared with all of you.

Stay warm, kids.

Thanks for reading enduring.

How do you stay warm in the winter?