"Cold" is a Four Letter Word

Ok. I’m really tired of going into a restaurant, work, clinic, daycare, sports event, grocery store, mall, ANYWHERE looking perfectly normal, and exiting looking like the latest exhibit at the ice sculpting competition. I have to make sure that I’m not going anywhere afterwards because once I leave one of the aforementioned places, all the hair has grown back on my legs.
Why is it that places think they need to be forty degrees inside? It’s bad enough in the summer, but why in the winter? I should be able to go someplace and be comfortable, not wishing that my food would come faster so that I could go outside and proceed with the necessary thawing.
I’ve heard that’s it because I’m so tiny, or short, or because I have brown hair or any number of stupid excuses that don’t change the fact that I’m one step away from being the Abominable Snowman’s distant cousin. And honestly, maybe I’m not cold, maybe the rest of you are just too hot. Ever think of that? Maybe you should be forced to wear shorts in the winter if you’re so hot, so I can wear my clothes in peace and not freeze to death. I actually dread going places in the summer. Because at least in the winter I’m bound to have long sleeves and a parka on, or something. But oh no, not in the summer. In the summer, I’m doomed. I’m doomed to a nasty wintery fate. A horrible death of all of my skin cells as they slowly freeze into a cold oblivion. I’ve actually begun to realize that I’m colder in the SUMMER than I am in the WINTER. Figure that one out, Freud. I’d just like to find one place that didn’t make me wish I was living in the Sahara Desert. But maybe I should move there….at least I’d have a nice tan…..