Underneath my yellow skin

You won’t like me when I’m angry

We’re going through a heatwave here in MN. And by heatwave, I mean three days of ‘feels like’ 90+. I broke down yesterday and set the AC at 75 (I normally have it at 78, but I noticed I had perma-held it at 76 when I went to bump it down to 75). That’s surprisingly high for Americans if anecdote is data, which it isn’t, but it might as well be. Yes, I hate heat, but I also am trying to be environmentally conscious, and I hate wasting money. But, yesterday, I lost my shit when I woke up at 8:30 a.m. to my AC going off. It was already 88 degrees, and it was only going to get hotter. I decided to indulge myself for one full day before going back to my parsimonious ways.

I also have a fan blowing on my at high speed 24/7. That may seem like overkill to other people, but other people are not living in my very overheated skin.

Side note: I used to have hyperthyroidism, and now, I have hypothyroidism. You’re supposed to be never feel cold with the former and always feel cold with the latter. That explains why I never felt cold when I was younger, but not now.

The thermostat wars are very real. My BFF and her husband always argued about it. He’s more like me and would have happily never used the heater ever. She, on the other hand, is the one that when we used to go out in the winter, would pull her coat close to her, shiver, and demand to know why I wasn’t feeling the cold. She would say, “Isn’t your spine scrunching up?” I would retort that it made me feel alive, and we would laugh. It was all in good fun, just as me saying I would kill the sun with the heat of a thousand, well, suns, and she would get more energy from being outside.

She and her husband came to a compromise that neither of them were very happy about. Oh! This is a nonnegotiable for me in a relationship, by the way. Not that someone needs to love the cold the way I do, but that they understand that five minutes in the heat can deplete me to the point of needing to rest for several hours.

Back to my friend. She’s dealing with menopause now which makes her feel hot–which is a novice feeling for her. her husband is finding that he can tolerate the cold less as he gets older. They’ve switched to him wanting to bump the heater and her needing it colder, and she’s said to him, “Now you know how I’ve felt for twenty years!” while staring at him in the eyes and slowly turning the thermostat down. Ok, not the last bit because she’s a nice person, but it’s amusing how they’ve switched places.

It’s difficult to explain to people how much heat enervates me. For people who are constantly cold and/or love heat, they can’t wrap their mind around the idea that the sun is not my fucking friend! I can understand how people don’t like cold because I *have* been chilled to the bone. I wouldn’t want to feel that way all the time. I don’t understand why people who love heat can’t have the same empathy. I know preferring heat is the majority feeling or at least it’s portrayed that way. Even in MN, where we’re notorious for our winters, there’s still a feeling of, “Ugh, cold and snow, am I right?”

I ran to Cubs today, and the second I stepped outside, I could feel all my energy (which isn’t much to begin with) drain out of my body, and I started sweating profusely. I sweat like a pig at the first hint of heat. And by first hint of heat, I mean anything over seventy degrees. I just read an article about heat vs. cold according to male columnists with Matty Y being on the side of cold, and he mentioned wearing 4 layers in the cold and being fine. Someone on the heat side said he couldn’t imagine anyone wearing ‘only’ four layers in anything under 20 degrees. He, himself, had to wear at least 7 layers! To which I say, “GIT GUD, SCRUB!” I’m kidding, but just. It wasn’t the fact that he preferred heat, but that he was so condescending about it. And sure that he was in the right.

You want to know how many layers I wear in 20 degree weather? One. Maybe two. I wear a t-shirt and sweats with a hoodie thrown over it. I didn’t wear a jacket all of last winter, though I will admit that I did not go out in -50 weather because I’m not that cold-happy. I keep the windows in my car open until it’s below zero. In other words, suck it up, buttercup!

I’m actually more sympathetic towards people who hate cold than I’m appearing right now. It’s just that I’ve had to feel defensive about my love of cold forever and a day. Just like everything else that I like that no one else does or that I hate that everyone else likes. I’ve learned just to smile and nod when people talk about how great the hot weather is, but it’s still irritating.

It’s hard to explain how if the weather hits 90, I can’t think. My brain melts, and all I can think about is how fucking hot it is. Every pore of my body is sweating and miserable, and my brain feels as if it’s in molasses. Here’s the thing. This starts at 70 degrees, and it only intensifies with every added degree. It makes me miserable, and I tend to lash out when I’m hot.

Look. I’m a grumpy bitch in the best of times. Cantankerous and surly, even if I don’t appear that way on the surface. I try to manage it and keep it under control, but it slips out when I’m tired and/or stressed. Add heat to it, and the subtext becomes text. I’ve been watching a ton of Eurogamer, and that’s one of their lines. “We just made subtext text!” It takes a lot of effort for me to try to be a normal human being, and I’m not up to the effort when I’m not at the top of my game. Which is never.

By the way, another reason I hate heat is because I can’t sleep in it. Yes, I keep my fan going all night, but I’m still sweating and gross when I wake up. I’ve only slept five hours (just) in the last three nights, and yet, I just want to sleep more. That’s the problem with the heat and sleep. The heat makes me sleepy, but it also makes it impossible for me *to* sleep. So, I just lie here, sweating and feeling gross, and wanting to peel off my skin.

I know I’m biased–and I’m very biased–but it’s easier to put on more clothing than to take it off. Right now, I’m wearing boxer shorts and nothing else with my hair wrapped on top of my head. I have the fan full blast, and I still feel hot and grumpy. It’s taken me hours to write what I have so far, and it should have taken me an hour at the most. My brain just refuses, and I keep stopping and staring again. Starting again. Not staring again, though there is that as well.

This heat is supposed to last for the rest of the week, which means I’m going to be a grumpy, sleepy, hot mess (and I mean that literally) until this is all over.

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