When did I become such a fucking pansy?

And I don't even mean when did I become such a fucking pansy I cry at everything. That I know. Age 28. But more like when did I become such a fucking pansy I can't cope with this cold weather we are having. Apparently right now it is 36 degrees outside*. As I was walking to work this morning here were my thoughts... Cripes it is cold. My right eye is actually watering because it is so damn cold. My calves hurt (completely unrelated to cold actually). Damn I need long underwear. So** here's my question. When did I get to be a pansy? Really? I lived in Alaska for fuck's sake. ALASKA! Where it was really cold. We knew what real cold meant. And I didn't have a car there. I walked there. I rode the bus around there. California. I think that's where I became a pansy***. Where 68 degrees is considered ski boots and parka weather. Damn pansyness. I even LIKE the cold. I LOVE snow, but walking to work this morning, we were not amused.

*Thank's Matty for having that little thing on your blog so I don't actually have to research the temp my actual very self.
**KTP I noticed I start far too many sentences and posts with so also, where's that from?
***Completely unrelated, but one of my favorite authors had a main character who owned a mastiff named Pansy. She was so cool in the stories, trained to kill really because the guy was a badass, but I love the idea of a ginormous dog named Pansy.