When I was a wee lass I hated wearing hats, and winters especially were brutal affairs. After hours of tromping around in the snow or skating hither and yon across Mohegan Lake and back, my overly thin and fine hair would be tangled up into a veritable rat's nest under those pesky warm woolen hats.
My parents threatened and harangued and cajoled, and tears and No More Tears and unfortunate haircuts inevitably ensued.
My father even tried using numbers on me. He told me, at some point during one of our pitched hat battles, that we can lose upwards of 90% of our body heat out of our heads, and that if I only wore my hat like a good girl I wouldn't be nearly as cold.
This sounded dubious to me at best, and I came to the obvious conclusion that if this were true it should be alright to run around naked all winter long, but for a hat.
Luckily for me my parents did not, as far as I can remember, let me put this to the test.