How Not to Formicate

My internal body thermostat is broken. It’s a problem. This is what happens:

Mostly I’m fine
Then
My feet freeze from the toes inwards in a sensation reminiscent of a paddling in the North Sea not wearing sufficient Wellington-ness.
Then
My face becomes rosy and generally glowing like an embarrassed lady from a Victorian novel.
I glow like and embarrassed lady from a Victorian novel.
My breasts decide that since they are the most important part of me they’ll go on double-glow duty, and since there are two of them they decide to go on quadruple glow duty like a collection of ladies in a Victorian novel gossiping about the size of their husbands’ cummerbunds.
Meanwhile my knees and upper shins are fine, a sort of balmy spring afternoon Edwardian novel about the great outdoors manner of fine.
My toes continue to freeze like a novel of unspecified vintage about polar exploration.

I’ve told the doctor. Her solution was to remove some blood. I’m assuming that she felt that all this glowing and Victorian-ness was due to an excess of blood. And the removal thereof was a Victorian style solution. She had no leeches. I’m quite glad about that.

It all makes it difficult to know what to wear of a morning. This is what I’ve come up with (working up from the floor region) :
Twenty pairs of thermal walking socks (on each foot)
Jeans or legwarmers (rainbow striped)
A cummerbund and bustle
Nothing
A pair of pre-cooled coconut shells
nothing
A scarf
A gel-filled face mask
A balaclava
A straw hat with a jaunty collection of peonies and a puce ribbon.

The doctor believes that it is a case of Raynaulds Syndrome meets PMS meets the Perimenopause. I’ve just looked it up on Wikipedia and it informs me that it might be a case of formication. If only.