If you are from the Midwest, you are known for consuming large, robust, over-stuffed plates of food. Eating big is a strength, a sign of optimism and power. Packing layers of fat on your skeletal frame is considered a good, practical idea. It's smart.
Why? Winter.
If you are from the Midwest winter looms over you. Winter is something you tackle, take on, endure. It's a contest. A battle of wills. There's Mother Nature; big, threatening, overwhelming, all-consuming Mother Nature. And then there's you. Fat little you.
You become a connoisseur of cold. Maybe unlike the Eskimos you don't have 50 or more words for snow. Snow is snow. But you do have an intimate understanding of cold, and there are many, many kinds of cold.
Bone-chilling. Face-freezing. Biting. Bitter. Sloshy. Damp. Wet. Brutal. Icy. Dry. Freeze-dried. White. Grey. Cold that cuts. Cold that numbs. Cold that brings you to your knees. Cold that clutches your mind.
All you can think and feel is cold. It's all pervasive. All -invasive. All knowing and seeing. Cold.