If you'll notice what all of these animals and I have in common:
Fat insulates because its high water content slowly gives off heat as the fires of metabolism burn inside every single cell in my body. I will sweat in freezing cold weather. I get tired of telling people that I'm not cold. I'll wear pants for funerals, weddings, and God. Otherwise, it takes a blizzard to get me in pants. Shorts are infinitely more comfortable to a big person because it helps keep the air flowing to all those places where the sun don't shine that yall skinny folks don't ever consider because you don't have them. I can hide cans of coke in parts of my body, and I'm not talking orifices. Those who knew me in middle school may remember how adept I was at smuggling candy into E.T. Booth on special days (field trips, field days, sporting events). No one ever dared frisk under my belly. Shorts keep the air moving and thus me more comfortable. Sometimes my ears get cold, or the edges of my wrists, but mostly I'm warm. I could've never hidden from the Predator in that Scwarzenneggar movie because I glow blood red on infrared monitors. Mickelle says that my Indian-name wouldn't be something cool like Wind In His Hair or Smiles a Lot, but would be "Fire butt" because laying next to me in bed is like having an electric blanket turned on.
So when you see me in shorts and a guayabera when it's cold outside and you have on a scarf, a coat, mittens, and a smug look of superiority, know this: I am warm if not warmer than you are and I am comfortable.
As I write this I am sweating just sitting here. The fires of industry indeed. I lost 4 lbs. last week.