Is there a name for the extreme fear of being cold? Yes, it’s called frigophobia and is a condition from which I suffer. I assure you, suffer is the appropriate word, as it’s both debilitating and expensive. Frankly, I’d rather be hungry, tired, itchy, achy, sweaty, swollen, chapped, chafed, anything but cold. Or even chilled. To me, being cold is the absolute depth of misery.
I am not a fish stick.
The instant the temperature plunges below 80º I start to panic: where are my winter clothes? Do I have enough of them, do I need more, do I need heavier, better weather-resistant gear? It’s a rhetorical question, really, because the answer is always yes. I need more. I cannot have enough. And I start shopping like a lottery winner,
This month alone I bought 2 thermal shirts, sweatpants, 2 hoodies, long johns, and a thick, heavy sweater. I have my eye on a red union suit and a parka, too, one that’s weather tested to -45º celsius. Anything fleece or flannel or woolen, down-filled or Gore-Texed or having an R-value, is on my shopping list. I did a thorough inventory and I still possess a plaid hat with ear-flaps, electric gloves, insulated Doc Martens, and a woefully inadequate muffler — it needs to be replaced with something much, much, much more substantial. Pronto.
In case you’re wondering, yes, I do look and feel inflated in wintertime. Not only that, the multiple layers of clothes are uncomfortably restrictive. Bending an arm or a leg is a grueling chore. Getting in a car, navigating tight spaces such as aisles, tying a shoe, any movement, really, is exhausting. By mid-January I’m cranky and ill-tempered and all I want is sweet, sweet freedom.
From November until May I resemble nothing so much as an overburdened coat rack. Or, maybe, a towering pile of unattended laundry. I loathe cold.
Books, however, offer some degree of salvation. If it wasn’t for them and their distraction I’d be crazier than a bedbug. I’ll begin stockpiling those in November. Golly, I hope debtor’s prison has a good heating system.
copyright © 2018 the whirly girl
the whirly girl 
12 responses to “: the annual fall panic :”
Agree. I read that women have a core temp a couple of degrees lower than men, due to having to refrigerate our important (reproductively speaking) bits… which are safely tucked away on the inside where they are safe. As opposed to on the outside where they could be easily torn off by a fox or something. Bring on the blankets.
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Wow! I didn’t know that, but it makes sense. Bring on the quilts and heating pads and plenty of sunshine, too. Just in case ☀️
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I have visions of you falling down (we both know it could happen) and not being able to get up because of all the clothing you have on. The good news is you will be well padded and won’t get any new bruises or injuries.
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Do you have me under surveillance? This exact scenario happened in 2010. When I couldn’t get up, I had to roll across a parking lot to a fence in order to pull myself up. My pride never recovered 🤦🏻♀️
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I’m pretty sure it has happened at least once to every Canadian kid…and a lot of adults. You are not alone. In fact there may be a support group ;-)
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You’re my support group. Besides, I’ve developed an immunity to public humiliation, it’s my way of life. As long as people laugh I consider it a successful failure. You’re the best, michelle :o)
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No matter how hot it gets, I can always get cool, but when I get cold, I can’t get warm. I think you should sell everything and move to the tropics.
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Yep, I caught a chill in, oh, 1982 and I’ve been blue with goosebumps ever since! I think the equator sounds lovely ⛱
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Struggled out of bed this morning to see a sickly sun illuminating a frosty lawn. Frozen fingers, in spite of the central heating, are hampering my typing. You have my heart-felt sympathies. Now, where’s that sweater?
Your fellow frigophobe.
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Hold it. You can get by with one sweater? 😳 Who are you? Superman?
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🙏🏻 Books 🙏🏻
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🙂 Yay 🙃
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