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A hearty "Jambo!" to you.

These are my musings and recommendations. I write about everything. Enjoy your stay.

A Day In The Life Of An Excessive Perspirer

A Day In The Life Of An Excessive Perspirer

I can almost feel how hot it is outside when I take a look out of my window in the morning. The elderly gentleman taking his dog for a walk is adorned in pants, a long sleeve shirt, and a gardening hat to shield him from any and all UV rays, but that dog is a dead giveaway. It’s hotter than shit outside - it’s downright spicy.

The sun is barely peeking out over the horizon and yet the dogs tongue is hanging out of its mouth like it’s holding on for dear life. I can see heat rising from the blacktop of the street, making the air just above the surface blurry and mirage like. After stepping out of the shower, my dress shirt sticks to my relatively dry body. It’s going to be high 80s today, maybe low 90s if whoever is controlling the weather is really feeling like an asshole.

But this is only the beginning. By midday, the suit I’ve been wearing is completely drenched in sweat, and thinking about the dry cleaning bill for these past two weeks is enough to make me want to vomit. Inside of my office, the air conditioning is down to a cool 65 degrees, and women as far as the eye can see wear blankets when walking from desk to kitchen for warmth.

That sweaty suit I’ve got on is now dried, but the smell lingers on my person. By end of day, I’m back inside of a packed subway car and reigniting those sweat glands. I feel like a steer going to slaughter. Drenched in the sweet, sweet smell of sweat, I rip the suit off as soon as I step foot inside of my bedroom and toss everything into the dirty clothes hamper. Back in the shower I go for number two of the day. Did the shower take this time? I don’t think so. Just like this morning, all I’ve really done is wash off one layer of sweat and trade it in for a fresh one. I’m smelling fine - for now at least.

But now it’s the evening, and even though there’s a slight drop in temp, going from high 80s to high 70s isn’t all that noticeable to my body, which continues making sweat at a clip that I didn’t think was possible.

On a weeknight, I might be good with two rinses on the day. But it’s Friday, and the chance to meet up with my buddies and drink beer until I can’t see straight is too enticing to pass up. Still uncomfortably hot outside, I wear a t-shirt and shorts to the bar where I spend the next four hours making a jackass of myself on the dance floor.

After an abysmal showing at the bar, a slice of pizza from the corner shop near my apartment is the only thing on my mind. My shirt which was once light blue is just an indistinguishable dark-ish color now. Beads of sweat drip from my armpits down to my wrists. My brow is hot to the touch, and if I had a sweatband on my wrist a la Rafael Nadal right now I’d fucking use it.

Stepping back into my apartment from the pizza shop, I only notice a slight drop in temperature. I have the air conditioning on, but my unit is so old that it hardly feels like anything. I struggle to get my shirt off, which sticks to my body and smells like stale beer. I can’t get into bed like this. Back in the shower, I make sure that the water is lukewarm. Not hot, not cold, but something I like to call rodeo cool. Smelling relatively fresh again, I jump into bed in only my underwear. This cycle of sweating and bathing is one which I will rinse and repeat for the duration of the summer. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

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