Book - My Big Fat Fat by Samantha Dee - Available Worldwide at Amazon
Books by Samantha Dee,  My Big Fat Fat

T is for Temperature

A chapter from my book ‘My Big Fat Fat’ (2018)

A humorous and touching account for those losing or coping with excess weight. With her laugh-out-loud humor, Samantha Dee covers all subjects from beauticians to socks in this easy to read A to Z guide on weight loss, maintenance, and ways to nourish your self-esteem.

Book – My Big Fat Fat by Samantha Dee – Available Worldwide at Amazon

T is for… Temperature

Ha! Well, we all know this one, don’t we?

I’m definitely a winter person.

There’s nothing better than waking up when it’s snowed the night before, or that day at the end of the summer when the air has that first noticeable autumn nip.

Well, that’s great. But one of the many reasons that I resolve to lose weight, is that it’s usually related to that dreaded feeling of going through another summer, fat.

I’d have to have the hide of a rhino to be unaffected by the temperatures of summer. It’s hideous; it’s uncomfortable. Skin rubs skin until it bleeds, I’m out of breath quicker, I sweat sooner (and sweat more). On top of that, I hide all of this when I leave my house, and never let on that I might be uncomfortable. Thank goodness for air conditioning. It’s the one time I look forward to working in an office, even one that’s two floors underground.

Summer clothing is also lost to me. I don’t know about you, but I just feel silly in summery clothes. Summery clothes equal feminine, and as I keep mentioning, I lose a sense of that as the weight goes on. Summery to me equals dresses, sleeveless things, shorts, mini things. Ugh.

I manage my way through Summer, instead of truly enjoying it. I find the most comfort in (Jersey) plain colours, simple lines so as not to overly draw attention to the excess.

It’s not ideal, but my reality is that I spend four hours a day on a train, in 35c heat, when the air conditioning isn’t working, and the train is delayed. If I’m trussed up like a turkey in a sleeveless pencil dress, I say again, ugh.

Winter is exponentially better for me. I get to choose velvets and (fake) fur and wool and ear-muffs and those big furry ‘Russian’ hats (which look absurd on me), and not have much of a care in the world.

Last Summer, not only did I have ridiculous heat to deal with (UK summers consist of two days above 35c and then rain and 12c for the rest of it), but I had menopause symptoms as well. For a good four months I felt like I’d been rolled up in cling-film and put on a treadmill, in a sauna.

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