I am a sweater.
Not the cozy, knit kind that you wear on chilly days. No, I mean I sweat. Majorly. I’m a schvitzer.
A sweaty betty.
I marvel at people who don’t perspire. My husband is one of them. Even when he works out, he only gets slightly moist, and can put his gym clothes right into his tote bag when he takes them off. No plastic bag needed. He brings them home smelling faintly of peppermint. Like they were stored with a pack of Wrigley’s. Right. He doesn’t sweat, he just emits mint.
Me, I drip. And I can’t hide it, since it pours right down my face.
I don’t have an issue with this when I work out, because that’s when you’re supposed to sweat. Big deal. You grab a towel. My problem is when I stroll somewhere to meet people, and show up beading from my brow like the outside of an iced coffee cup on a hot day.
And then, not because it’s barely detectable, but so profuse that it’s possible I might have been caught in a flash flood or pushed in a pool, people ask, “Are you sweating?”
The worst part is, it’s a delayed reaction.
I can be cool and dry the whole time I’m walking, and then, two minutes after I stop, I turn into a human sprinkler.
That’s what happened last night. I had a dinner date with my mother at The Red Cat, where my husband, No-Sweat Steven, would be working the floor. Mom asked me if I wanted her to pick me up in the car, since she was driving down. I said, “No thanks, it’s so nice out, I’ll walk.”
It’s like a 25-minute walk from our apartment, and I left 30 minutes so I could take my time. I thought, this way, I won’t break a sweat. (If I speed-walk I’m toast.) I approached the restaurant with a few minutes to spare, and totally dry.
But my face felt hot. A pre-sweat warning.
I ducked into the Tipsy Pony*, a dumb bar right next door, where the owner is like a carnival barker. He lit up when he saw me. “Hello, come in, would you like a seat at the bar, or a table?” I stopped him right there: “I’m just looking around. Thanks.” Now I could feel a trickle down my back. Face, moist. I stood under the AC vent and grabbed a bar napkin when the bartender had his back turned. I didn’t feel like explaining, “Not here to drink, just to dab my sweaty face.”
OK. Felt like I had it under control. I entered the Red Cat clutching my soggy ball of bar napkin and greeted the host. Normally, I’d kiss him hello, but I could feel that my face was now entirely slick. It was not stopping. So, standing six inches from him, I blew a kiss.
A waiter came over and hugged me. I felt my shirt sticking to skin.
“Your mother is in the back. I’ll take you to her.”
“Oh, thanks, but I’m going to use the ladies’ room first.”
I bolted into the bathroom and locked it, hearing an aggressive knock as soon as the door closed. I knew it was Steven, and that he’d spotted me and was waiting to torture me with what we call a Hot Cuddle.
I looked in the mirror. Face: drenched.
Why couldn’t I be one of those people who just gets attractively flushed cheeks?
I soaked through three bathroom towels, and then took a fourth for the road.
When I came out, Steven was back on the floor opening some wine, but he appeared soon at our table, fanning me with his hand. He leaned in and kissed me with an overly puckered mouth, so he could make contact with my lips and nothing else.
“You OK?” he asked. “I heard you were schvitzing. Did you say hi to Paul?” Steven jabbed a thumb back toward Paul, a waiter I hadn’t seen yet. He was standing right behind Steven, grinning. “He’s the one who told me you were all sweaty.”
Paul gave a little wave.
Steven elaborated: “He came up to me and said, ‘Your wife’s here. I think she’s sweating.'”
Thanks, Paul.
“Didn’t know it would be so hot, huh?” My mother asked as sweat continued to bead and drip from my forehead.
“Nope.”
While we looked over the menu, Steven visited several times to check on my condition.
“I’m dry now,” I assured him.
He fingered the damp bangs plastered to my forehead. “Not so sure.”
I finally cooled off, and then, in the heavily air conditioned room, I felt freezing.
Luckily, I’d brought a sweater. The cozy, knit kind.
*Name changed to protect the dumb bar
Stumbled across your page today– I have the same problem. I sweat 5 minutes after stepping out of a cool shower even ! I don’t know why I bother with makeup anymore. I finally sucked it up and asked my dermatologist for Botox injections for my sweat mustache, which is one of my most embarrassing sweat areas. My upper lip was sweating while I was just sitting there for my skin cancer screening !!
I am the same way. It's acceptable when working out, but not when just standing around at a party or talking in public. I can feel it dripping down my back, down my legs, as I try and secretly wipe with a cocktail napkin. I remember rehearsing for Guys and Dolls in college and standing under air conditioning vents with paper towels under my arms to get rid of the sweat. Futile. Must be a Laura thing. 🙂
Down the legs is awful. Last time I wore a dress on a hot night, just to keep cool, I realized that's the worst way to keep cool. Because your legs touch each other. Ew. Love the paper towel pits.
I am the same way. It’s acceptable when working out, but not when just standing around at a party or talking in public. I can feel it dripping down my back, down my legs, as I try and secretly wipe with a cocktail napkin. I remember rehearsing for Guys and Dolls in college and standing under air conditioning vents with paper towels under my arms to get rid of the sweat. Futile. Must be a Laura thing. 🙂
Down the legs is awful. Last time I wore a dress on a hot night, just to keep cool, I realized that’s the worst way to keep cool. Because your legs touch each other. Ew. Love the paper towel pits.
With all the wonderful qualities you inherited from me — good ethics, sound teeth, weird toes — I guess you got the sweat glands, too. Today I'm a dripping blob. Good to know I passed on the important stuff. But your blog was super funny. Thanks — I needed a laugh after wading home.
I'm not sure about the ethics. You tried. But thanks for the cavity-free teeth. As for the toes and glands, you can keep 'em. Whoops, too late.
Ohhh, in the spirit of outing ourselves, I'll confess, too. One of the highlights of college for me was discovering Drysol from the student health center. Which, (and I'm really sorry about this part!) would definitely not be a good thing to swipe on your delicate facial skin. But, oh god, I hear you!
I got excited halfway through your reply, because I thought you were going to say that Drysol is for your face. Alas…
With all the wonderful qualities you inherited from me — good ethics, sound teeth, weird toes — I guess you got the sweat glands, too. Today I’m a dripping blob. Good to know I passed on the important stuff. But your blog was super funny. Thanks — I needed a laugh after wading home.
I’m not sure about the ethics. You tried. But thanks for the cavity-free teeth. As for the toes and glands, you can keep ’em. Whoops, too late.
I love that you fear Steven finding out that you were sweating. He's a ruthless teaser.
I forgot how sweaty I used to get in NY summers. Ya see, out here we've got the dry heat. Not as much sweating. But I still bring carry two deodorants in my bag for auditions. Why two? Cuz I don't trust that I already have one in there so I throw a second one in, just in case.
Here's the flaw in that plan: the heavier your bag, the more likely you'll sweat.
It's true. Steven has no ruth.
I have always been a pretty proficient sweater, but I recently started taking a medication that TRIPLED the volume. I took a (ill-advised, admittedly) bike ride the other day and imaged myself spraying everyone I rode by like a traveling sprinkler. I might have to resort to a permanent sweat band to avoid the sweat stinging my eyes. I would say let's get together and form a support group, but I think that would require a flash flood warning. And swupper lip is totally the worst.
Haha. Swupper lip. That is indeed the worst, because even the fantasy that terrycloth headbands will come back doesn't offer hope for the sweatstache problem.
Oh how I needed this today!! I look forward to your blog posts so much and this one really hit home! I am always that person wiping my face off and standing near the fans to cool myself off! I'm looking for that all over antiperspirant too! : )
Oh, thank you! That's nice to hear. I hope we don't run into each other on a day like that, because I'll take you down to get near that fan. There's only room for one fan hog.
You're in good company. I always noticed how Paul McCartney had a tendency to facially perspire when performing under hot lights: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-K7BoGWic0o
Thanks, Bruce! That does make me feel better. I'm like a tone-deaf Paul McCartney. I do notice, though, that the worshipful screaming quiets down when the sweat starts to appear in the video.
Laura…I love you!!!! HYSTERICAL!
Aw, thanks. Wouldn't be so funny if it were you, though, would it now.
I'm so glad I'm not alone. Considering those botox sweat-stopping shots for my upper lip. I might not be able to smile anymore, but I won't have a sweat mustache.
I want those so bad. But yeah, there's the whole muscle paralysis thing. And also, I would no longer be able to boast, “nope, haven't had botox.”
I'm wondering what would happen if I rubbed my prescription-strength Right Guard (for men) all over my face.
That's a better idea. I'll start with Secret gel and go from there.
You are beyond! Thank you for being sweaty, amazing, alive, and downright hilarious. I too am a sweater – but I believe you got me beat on this one 😉 xo M
Ha. You've been right there on the frontlines, seeing me sweat up close. I bet you've even gotten sprayed by my ponytail. So if anyone asks whether this is all true, I'll send them to you.
Thank you for being my friend, even during times of extreme humidity. xoxoL
Ohhh, in the spirit of outing ourselves, I’ll confess, too. One of the highlights of college for me was discovering Drysol from the student health center. Which, (and I’m really sorry about this part!) would definitely not be a good thing to swipe on your delicate facial skin. But, oh god, I hear you!
I got excited halfway through your reply, because I thought you were going to say that Drysol is for your face. Alas…
I love that you fear Steven finding out that you were sweating. He’s a ruthless teaser.
I forgot how sweaty I used to get in NY summers. Ya see, out here we’ve got the dry heat. Not as much sweating. But I still bring carry two deodorants in my bag for auditions. Why two? Cuz I don’t trust that I already have one in there so I throw a second one in, just in case.
Here’s the flaw in that plan: the heavier your bag, the more likely you’ll sweat.
It’s true. Steven has no ruth.
I have always been a pretty proficient sweater, but I recently started taking a medication that TRIPLED the volume. I took a (ill-advised, admittedly) bike ride the other day and imaged myself spraying everyone I rode by like a traveling sprinkler. I might have to resort to a permanent sweat band to avoid the sweat stinging my eyes. I would say let’s get together and form a support group, but I think that would require a flash flood warning. And swupper lip is totally the worst.
Haha. Swupper lip. That is indeed the worst, because even the fantasy that terrycloth headbands will come back doesn’t offer hope for the sweatstache problem.
Oh how I needed this today!! I look forward to your blog posts so much and this one really hit home! I am always that person wiping my face off and standing near the fans to cool myself off! I’m looking for that all over antiperspirant too! : )
Oh, thank you! That’s nice to hear. I hope we don’t run into each other on a day like that, because I’ll take you down to get near that fan. There’s only room for one fan hog.
You’re in good company. I always noticed how Paul McCartney had a tendency to facially perspire when performing under hot lights: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-K7BoGWic0o
Thanks, Bruce! That does make me feel better. I’m like a tone-deaf Paul McCartney. I do notice, though, that the worshipful screaming quiets down when the sweat starts to appear in the video.
Laura…I love you!!!! HYSTERICAL!
Aw, thanks. Wouldn’t be so funny if it were you, though, would it now.
I’m so glad I’m not alone. Considering those botox sweat-stopping shots for my upper lip. I might not be able to smile anymore, but I won’t have a sweat mustache.
I want those so bad. But yeah, there’s the whole muscle paralysis thing. And also, I would no longer be able to boast, “nope, haven’t had botox.”
I’m wondering what would happen if I rubbed my prescription-strength Right Guard (for men) all over my face.
That’s a better idea. I’ll start with Secret gel and go from there.
You are beyond! Thank you for being sweaty, amazing, alive, and downright hilarious. I too am a sweater – but I believe you got me beat on this one 😉 xo M
Ha. You’ve been right there on the frontlines, seeing me sweat up close. I bet you’ve even gotten sprayed by my ponytail. So if anyone asks whether this is all true, I’ll send them to you.
Thank you for being my friend, even during times of extreme humidity. xoxoL