Walking home from work today, all bundled up with my scarf wrapped around my face, I passed two guys dressed in construction-worker-type clothes (dirty jeans, sweatshirts, Carhardt jackets, beer bellies). As they passed, one of them said, "It's not THAT cold!" in a snotty, almost angry tone. I waited until I was 20 feet away before saying, "Bitch."
What those guys did not understand is that I have a nose problem. A nose-skin problem, really: Rosacea (must be said in loud, screechy old-lady voice). I already don't limit my caffeine intake or stay away from spicy foods, so I try to at least keep my nose out of the freezing cold air. My nose is bright red for the majority of my life, but it gets much redder out in the cold, which can't be good for its long-term health. I really don't want to turn into the guy at the Rt. 47 flea market with the bulbous plum nose who looks like a purple elephant seal. And unfortunately, I'm not brave enough to wear one of these. So scarf held up to my face is what it's gotta be.
If I could have explained all of that to Judgey McFatpants in a split second, I would have. The bitch.