I took out the shorts today and just about died laughing. The only people I’ve seen wearing shorts lately are university students who have worked their way through the upper layer of clothing lying on the floor and are now down to the “summer” base.
I’m off to Thailand next weekend and the sight of my son without a shirt and my grand-daughter running buck naked through the house still isn’t enough to establish the idea of heat. It’s my theory that as soon as we get a blast of winter all our cells shrivel under the layers of clothes we put on and the only way to convince them to come out is to slowly remove the layers, week by week to allow the poor wee things to readjust. In the meantime, I’m doing what nature intended and plumping those poor sad little cells up with fat. It seems to be working a treat.
Which is another thing. Is the water in the pool going to slosh over the sides when I get in?
Winter is also when most women make peace with their body hair. I’m not talking about 20something’s who still have standards, but ordinary women who continue to go to the gym but put on the long-sleeved top and make sure if they’re wearing the 3/4 trou, their legs move a lot so no-one has time to stare. Going “Hot” in the middle of winter, means you have to rip all those hairs from their cosy little beds just so you don’t look like a Neanderthal that’s escaped from the Penguin Enclosure at the zoo. It’s cruel. And it hurts but no-one wants to look like a fat hairy beast. Fat’s enough on its own.
I don’t know why I’m complaining. It’s a good thing going on holiday and it’s an even better thing travelling across the world to those you love. And I do know that if I can manage to avoid hypothermia before I get on the plane, it’ll be ok. I will step onto the carpet at Suvarnabhumi and the warm air will seep into my skin and by the time I get out into the Arrivals Hall I’ll have sweat. Sweet, sweet sticky sweat and the only time I’ll have to worry about the cold is when I try to work out which way I have to turn the AC to warm things up.
Robyn Anderson 