I have discovered, in my mothering years, that I am not made for cold weather. In fact, unless said weather involves skis and snow, I’d go so far as to say I HATE it.
When I was younger, I’d prefer shooting in the cold (my reasoning being, it’s easier to warm up than to cool down). I preferred to exercise in the cold – anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I sweat. A lot. But all of that has changed.
This pic makes the cold look glam and period-drama cosy… I was FREEZING
I wonder if part of the problem was moving to a country where, 9 months of the year, its 25+ degrees, and therefore winter feels like an assault to the senses. Or maybe it’s because, in winter, I just struggle to move properly. I go to the gym and start in 3 layers, trying to warm myself up around my clicking knees and hip-flexors (thanks for that, pregnancy).
There is also the fact that, in winter, my free-spirited water child cannot play outside every day until her heart’s content, because MUMMY gets cold.
But do you know the worst thing about being cold, for me? It’s my complete lack of motivation to do anything. If I had my way, I’d sit in a hot bath all day, pigging out on pizza and growing a winter blubber layer. Boxing and Pilates don’t seem so attractive when it’s cold outside and your layers hinder your movements. And don’t even get me started on how little I want to run, right now (clicky ankles, anyone?).