It’s chilly outside.
There’s one thing I intensely dislike about winter. I really hate it when my thighs freeze. I’m fat. Yep, right down to brass tacks, in fact, according to some, I’m obese. That means that I have a big butt and fat thighs. In fact, I’ve always had fat thighs, even when I was fit.
Now, don’t let anyone ever tell you that fat is a good insulator. It might work that way with thick blubber for whales and seals, but it doesn’t work that way for humans. You see, if you have fat (and any fat person out there reading can testify to this) that fat freezes. It not only freezes, but it stays cold because it doesn’t have the same amount of blood flow as muscle. So instead of keeping me warm, my fat works as an air conditioner would.
So now I sit, happily warm everywhere else…except my thighs. I can feel the cold radiating off of them, chilling down the chair I’m sitting on.
When I lived in Calgary in the early 1980s I had a similar problem. When they didn’t have a chinook happening the city froze hard. In fact, part of the reason the winter affected me so drastically there was because of the chinooks. (a : a warm moist southwest wind of the coast from Oregon northward b : a warm dry wind that descends the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains – Merriam-Webster). I wasn’t able to get used to the weather. Anyway, when it was cold, it was fucking freezing!
I’d get home from work at about 5:30 or so in the evening, and after having walked about 2 blocks home from the bus stop, my thighs would be frozen solid…at least that’s how it felt. During the coldest time when the temperatures were -40 and lower I wouldn’t be able to warm up well. I’d stay chilled through the evening. Then I came up with,what was possibily the most brilliant idea I had in my whole life.
When I got home in the evening I’d run a hot bath. That’s not the brilliant part. I’d plug the kettle in and make myself hot chocolate…wait it’s coming. Then I’d add an ounce of rum to the cocoa. We’re taking glorious. It was the only time when I actually bathed rather than showered (except in places where there was no shower). I’d tip-toe into the hot water, and slowly sink into its delicious warmth. I”d sip on the chocolate until it was all done. By that time I was toasty warm and ready to cook supper.
Yeah, supper was late on those nights. Once or twice I got a little too “happy” with the rum and singed a food item or two. But hey, I was warm.
I’m still cold. Even after typing all of that, my thighs are still cold. Oh well. It’s time to study. I don’t want to, but I have to.