Confessions from a Sweater

woman_sweat

I ran this morning. I wish I’d known that the weather would be so beautiful and cool this evening, or I would have waited. Instead, I sweated through the heavy humidity at 5 AM. I left Ashok at home as she would have suffered in the heat. With freedom not to worry about her, I really enjoyed it. I was soaked when I turned the last corner toward my house. I yanked off my headband and squeezed out the water.

My high school boyfriend got another gal pregnant. We had broken up some time before, but I always thought we belonged together. Now I know that would have been a disastrous coupling, but you can’t tell that to a young girl infatuated with a hot-headed boy.

One evening, I was playing tennis with a guy I was casually dating. My old boyfriend and his new, now unpregnant wife showed up. They wanted to play doubles, and I reluctantly agreed. This lovely thin, blonde woman was decked out in the perfect little white tennis outfit. And my frizzy-haired young self was dressed in dime-store gym shorts and a sweaty t-shirt. How does she not sweat, I asked myself as we played – her ponytail bouncing playfully in the sun. The sweat poured down into my eyes rendering me blind. I could outplay her in tennis, but I felt outplayed in every other area of my life.

sweat

Some women say they glisten, but I can’t claim that dainty term. I sweat. And I’ve learned to love it. Sure there are times when it’s inconvenient like when I’d like to wear makeup on a hot summer day. But I’ve learned to work around it. Thank goodness companies like Athleta have come out with pretty technical fabrics that can pass for street clothes. That has made life for us lady sweaters much more bearable.

Sweat is a bath from the inside out. When I’m done working out, I feel cleansed. It’s as if every ounce of sludge inside me has oozed through my pores and washed over my skin. While the heat really bothers me, I sure do miss sweating in the winter. Sometimes I go sit in the steam room at the YMCA. There’s no glistening for me. For my DNA, I seek nothing less than a slippery, slimy, hot sweaty mess.

 

 

 

7 thoughts on “Confessions from a Sweater

  1. I am a fellow sweater. Mostly I hate it. And not only do I sweat buckets, but I also turn bright red. Do you remember that children’s book Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great? Well, I always think of myself as Sheila the Grape when I’m in the midst of my sweatiness. Ugh. Oh well- not much I can do about it right? That’s just how I’m made. But it is always nice to know that I’m not the only one…

      • We went to Michigan on one of our summer trips. The UP was our favorite and still ranks high in all the places we’ve gone. I’m not sure how I’d feel about the winter version of Michigan though. I hate the humidity of summer in Virginia but I’ve become very used to the milder winters after 18 years here.

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