So this happened. I went outside somehow bare legged – bare assed and thighed at least. Despite my husband’s grumble and officially “not accepting any accusations in case I become cystitis” (and possible “what the hell are you wearing?!” message coming from my mom tomorrow) I actually didn’t feel the cold. This was my everest and proved my long-alleged argument: as long as the (my) upper body and feet are warm, you (I) shouldn’t feel any cold from the legs. I’m not pointing any fingers or accusing anyone but come on, if I can bare it all in Montreal, so can you people. So can you.