Picture This

There's a 20-something white girl, brown hair, only about 5 feet tall despite all the milk she drank as a kid. It's 40 degrees outside, and despite being inside a classroom, she's freezing because schools don't actually close the windows or turn on the heat in winter. (Maybe they would, if the heat existed). She's layered in long underwear, windpants, 2 sweaters, a coat, a scarf, and gloves, and she's standing awkwardly at the back of a classroom. There are 30 mentally and/or physically disabled middle school children and 10 teachers in the same room. The noise and movements around her never stop, and the atmosphere borders on insanity. The girl focuses on her breathing so she won't flee right then and there. At the front of the classroom, an older lady is playing the piano, and a younger lady is playing the flute.
Suddenly, there is the sensation of large, dry slugs sliding down the fronts of her thighs. The girl jumps and throws her head down in shock to realize that a boy has just shoved both his hands down her front pockets. She yanks them out and places them firmly by his sides, squeezing them tightly to send a clear message, despite the language barrier. She is the only person in the room who speaks English. Before she has a chance to move away from the distracted student, a young Japanese teacher wraps something around her head. A glance in the window shows her that it's a blue paper flower the size of a basketball. "Dance?" the teacher pleads, and drags her to the front of the classroom. She recognizes a Hawaiian aloha tune from the piano. The girl hesitates at the mini-stage, but someone pushes her to the middle as two more hands drape a lei (?) around her neck, on top of the grey wool scarf. "Dance, dance!?" the teacher begs. So covered in gloves, layers, a big paper flower and a plastic flower necklace, the girl unfolds some very ungraceful aloha moves. And in the middle of dancing, wishing she could blow her nose, or drink a cup of coffee, or be alone, she admits to herself for the first time, "I really, really hate this."
Was it so bad? Nah. In the grand scheme of things, it was nothing. But in that moment, she wanted to be anywhere else, and she still doesn't want to go back.

A few days later: that same girl is still cold. She just drank a very Japanese solution of powdered ginger in warm water, a gift from a friend who said it would "make [her] body hot." Luckily for her, she loves the stuff. She's in her apartment and little puffs of air are visible when she exhales. The music is on for the first time all day, and the volume is loud. She's singing and panting, bent over the tile floor in her shower, scrubbing with a bottle of cleaner that has a sparkling toilet bowl on the front. That toilet bowl is the only part of the packaging she can understand. But the drawn-on twinkles told her enough -- the liquid works wonders. Scrub scrub, hey! that black stuff is gone!
Despite the fact that she's recovering from a cold, her jeans are rolled up to her knees and she wears nothing on her feet (they're getting wet in the shower). The top of her, however, is of course layered in long underwear, sweaters, a scarf, and a wool hat. But this time, alone in her apartment, thinking about the people she loves, reflecting on a fun weekend, and singing, she's pretty damn happy.
And you gotta admit, wearing a hat inside is kind of funny.