On Being the Absolute Sweatiest

Sunday, July 29, 2012

There's a line from a song in "Kiss Me Kate" that goes, "According to the Kinsey Report, every average man you know much prefers to play his favorite sport when the temperature is low. But when the thermometer goes way up & the weather is sizzling hot, Mr. Adam for his madam is not." When I was in high school, the guys in my show choir choreographed a tap dance to it, complete with dancing canes, & when they got to the word "hot," the raised their canes like, um, a part of the male anatomy. When they reached the word "not," their canes fell like, um, that same part of the male anatomy.

In the summer, I think about this song a lot. And yes, this song is all about how no one likes having sex when it's a million degrees out. But for me, the point is also that I don't like doing anything when it's a million degrees out, including that. I don't like going outside. I hardly like being inside. I don't like walking, much less exercising. Hell, I don't like moving, period.

Much to my dismay, I am an abnormally sweaty individual. I know, that's a less-than-glamorous thing to say or whatever, but it is what it is: I'm a sweater. I'm almost 28 years old, & if it hasn't changed yet, it's probably never going to. Though I haven't yet quite accepted that fate, I have the sense to admit that it's probably true.

As you can imagine, being sweaty is not exactly a desirable quality in a woman. In general, being sweaty means being disgusting. Being sweaty means that when I leave my house looking beautiful(ish) & well-coifed, I inevitably arrive at my destination looking schlumpy - & depending on the weather & my activity level, I get schlumpier as the day goes on. Being sweaty means that I lie & say I loathe dancing only because cannot do it without looking like I just fell into a swimming pool. Being sweaty means that any outdoor endeavor is a miserable one, from being at the beach to walking down the block. Being sweaty means doing double-time on laundry duty because I sometimes change multiple times in a single day.

Think I'm exaggerating? I wear Old Spice, y'all; I'm a 27-year-old woman who wears a deodorant designed for ripped male athletes & smelly dudes with beer bellies. Further contributing to my problem is that fact that I stupidly got bangs in May, of all times, which ups my facial sweatiness factor by at least 15%. I wear shorts under all my dresses to eliminate, or at least ameliorate, the dreaded chub rub. I buy oil blotting sheets & dry shampoo like they're going out of style. And so on.

It's safe to say that from May to September, I feel comfortable only when standing absolutely still in a highly air-conditioned room. But because the weather in New Jersey has hovered between sweltering & boiling all month & because the A/C in my new apartment hovers somewhere between minimally useful & wholly useless, I'm really struggling to make it through this summer without melting into a sad puddle of goo.

In summary: It's too darn hot. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go stick my head in the freezer.

Images: First image found here but can't locate original source; second image found here with no original source cited

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