I AM NOT DUMPLING SHAPED

That afternoon I severely miscalculated the weather. Specifically the frigid temperatures. And what should have given me a clue was that by late morning I still had painful fingers (Raynaud's phenomenon) while at my computer, from the cold. It's an ongoing problem.

I just don't have the body fat to insulate me anymore.

I should have put on my thick Canadian overcoat, but I was expecting it to be warmer outside. Instead of very low fifties. Damned well freezing. For a man with a sub-dermal fat layer that, seemingly, no longer exists.
That or thin skin. I'm blaming my medication.
I am insufficiently insulated.


I am feeling quite oppressed by the modern world. Years ago I could enjoy my smoke indoors, even bookstores had ashtrays, and lighting up one's pipe over a hot beverage while reading the newspaper in a café was by no means frowned upon. It was considered normal behaviour. Since then most opportunities for not freezing my rear end off have been taken away by the vicious puritanical do-gooders of modern society.

And it was so much warmer then too!

[Newsflash: Scrawny stick insect found frozen to death in alleyway, briar pipe still clenched in his bony claws, filled with a lovely well thought out mixture of Virginia and Perique tobaccos. Cognoscenti call it a profound loss for the civilized world. "We should like to know the exact proportions of that blend," said a spokesman, "it was exquisite!"]

After purchasing groceries in Chinatown and having a small lunch, I went outside and lit up. Within one block my fingers had turned blue.
Within two I was shaking.

Should have checked the temperature before leaving the house.
Undershirt, flannel overshirt, sweater, coat.
Arctic conditions.

Cup of milk tea afterwards. After half an hour clenching my tea cup the circulation had returned to my digits, so I loaded another pipe, girded my loins, and went outside for a second attempt. Sometimes it's warmer after the late afternoon winds subside, and I'm an incurable optimist, damned well stupid on that score. It wasn't. Got on the bus to my home three blocks later bent over and shivering.


You'd think that three layers of clothing would be enough insulation, wouldn't you? One person I saw out there was only wearing a tee-shirt, but she had an ample sufficiency of subcutaneous fat. Which I envied at that moment. Several others, considerably younger than myself, were also hardly dressed and not suffering from the cold in the slightest.
Show-offs.



I would make a lousy elephant seal.



Until decent weather returns, I shall be bitching. Like around sixty degrees Fahrenheit, no bitter winds at tea-time. Bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch; it's too cold!



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