ski-chick diaries: preparation stage

I spent an hour in Lilywhites this afternoon gathering the last of my gear for our ski trip next week. I'm a little disappointed that I didn't find a Bridget Jones inspired, all-in-one, pink jumpsuit but when I realised I could get kids attire for a third of the price I stopped being picky. Laden with gloves, thermal underwear, ski boots and other ‘ski-chick extraordinaire’ essentials I left feeling quite eager to hit the slopes. I must admit, I'm starting to reconsider my decision to opt out of ski lessons. I'm not sure how I expected to be able to navigate the snow - perhaps instinctively - but as the thought of overbearing mountains becomes a looming reality I'm not quite as confident as I was when filling in my form.
Anyway, in my opinion, snow and ski holidays are a definite perk of winter. The necessity to pile on ten layers of clothing every time you prepare to walk outside and an insatiable appetite for anything that is starchy and warm are not quite as appealing. I'm lacking motivation and frankly, the desire to go to bed at 19:30 is vastly uncharacteristic of a night owl such as I. The only explanation is that it is the time of year when my body thinks I'm a grizzly bear (don't laugh, I'm not that small) and all it wants to do is hibernate. If only.
But another week in wintry London is made tolerable by the appealing thought of gliding effortlessly down the slopes, a vast snow-covered mountain forming a picturesque backdrop of tranquil grandeur behind me. Illusions aside, it’s more likely that I’ll be flat on my back, one ski perpendicular in the snow, the other lying 3 metres from me as a ski-school of 10 year old kids swerves obnoxiously around me. That, coupled with unbearably stiff legs on day three and a goggles tan and I just can’t wait.