Ed. Note: One of my Facebook friends, Saumya, pointed out that since this is a British article, the -160 degrees is probably Celsius, which, as she noted, was around -250 degrees Fahrenheit (-256 to be precise). I had thought of that, but I just hoped it wasn’t true because -160 is bad enough. She took one for the team and checked the spa’s website, and it’s -160 C. Now, I’m doubly horrified.
As many of my longtime readers know, I like cold and snow. A lot. Winter is my favorite season, and I like to play a little game of ‘how long can I drive in the winter with the windows down?” I love dancing naked in the snow, even though we haven’t had enough to make it worthwhile in quite some time. It’s kind of my thing to tweet about dancing in snow, naked, at midnight, and, no, there will never be video of it. I love stepping out into the crisp winter air and feeling the hairs in my nose freeze. I feel the most alive when I’m slightly shivering, and I don’t put on a coat until it’s sub-zero degrees outside. I don’t think I wore a coat more than three times this past winter, making do with a sweatshirt and gloves. I’ve periodically researched the coldest, snowiest places on earth because Minnesota has been more mild lately. I would like to stay in an ice hotel one day because I think that would be an amazing experience. In other words, you will not find a bigger fan of cold than me. You know what I don’t like, though? Frostbite. I’ve never had it, but I’ve felt the incipient stage when your extremities start to go numb. I am not a big fan of it, and you know what would be even worse?
Having that feeling in your vag.
“Minna,” I can hear you say. “How in the hell did you get frostbite there?”
First of all, don’t swear. This is a family-friendly blog, for fuck’s sake. Have some decorum, please. Secondly, I have not gotten frostbite there, nor would I want to, but there are people who are paying money to experience the pleasure of becoming frigid.