April Awakening: Day Twenty-Nine ☀️☀️🌤️
It’s getting to be that time of the year where I might need a jacket when I go to work, but not when I’m on my way home. And you know what that means: sweating. It’s already happening and I hate every moment of it. I’m more used to it than I am in the past, but I still wonder why ‘drenched’ is my default position, even when it’s not that hot out. It’s like one muscle movement and I’m soaked, and I have yet to strike the right balance with my clothing choices to keep the perspiration to a bare minimum.
Years ago I did a summer ‘camp’ at my grade school with kids from my class and churches around the diocese. And summers in New Jersey were hot. I can’t remember all the things we did, only that they involved the Catholicism we were all growing up in. But a lot of the time was spent outside. There was one girl there who would eventually become part of our class for a few years, who, because of what she looked like, automatically became part of the “cool girls” group. I never really understood why. I didn’t think she was that cool, because she wouldn’t stop pointing out the sweat moustache that my upper lip couldn’t help but keep forming.
“Ew, what is that?” she’d say, curious yet disgusted at my sweltering self. I’d just wipe it off and say, “It’s nothing!” not being able to articulate that sometimes I’m just a sweaty little kid. It bothered me, like there was something wrong about the beads of sweat, that because she didn’t have the same, she was somehow cooler than me. Literally, this time. It was embarrassing. More embarrassing than the time I was an intern at HBO and had to buy a black Sopranos shirt at the gift shop because I had sweat too much through my gray tee. My glands have gone haywire all my life, but maybe it’s not so bad when the heat is on this much.
Sweating is a natural bodily function when we exert good energy. We can sweat after a strenuous workout. Or a marathon gauntlet. A good steam or a sauna can lift our spirts, knowing we got the best of it out as evidenced all over our faces. I’m not going to apologize for being human in that respect. There’s gotta be something out there to keep us ticking and keeping the blood flow going. I sometimes get the vapors after a good run of breaking news some mornings, and all I’m doing is sitting there typing.
Although there will be days I feel the embarrassment of a schweaty pit, especially because I still don’t know what I smell like, I’ll make sure to bring you the news first, not the weather. Because things certainly are heating up, and fast. I’d say if you can see what’s going on and you’re not sweating, I certainly have questions. Not all of us can remain cool under such pressure. Some of us get dewed up walking a few blocks on a hot Manhattan morning and get her new favorite shirt all sweaty. It happens. Wick it off.