• Carmen Milligan

Sweating in December

I have always been a sweater. I sweat. Always have. A lot. I buy clothes based on how the underarms will look 1/2 way through the morning. How the fabric will cling to me. Whether or not the fabric will "breathe".


When I was in high school, a young girl saw me at church, where I was wearing a lime green skirt and pink button-down oxford (I was preppy before preppy was cool). She went on and on to her mom, "Look at those sweat stains on Carmen's shirt! Man! She is sweating a lot! Mom! Can you believe it?" It was so much that her mom said, "Hush, Stephanie!" (yes, I still remember that little imp's name).

And here I am, some 35+ years later, sweating like the proverbial pig. What am I doing? Watching "Tangled" on Disney+. What is the exertion? I guess being a "fluffy" middle-aged woman. Sitting on the sofa. Drinking a whisky on the rocks.


Before, as a teeny-tiny teenager, weight and BMI had nothing to do with my sweat glands. My sweating was probably a combination of hormones, mental stress (over the sweating, which made me sweat all the more), and a little bit of hyperhidrosis. It is burned in my memory. It drove a lot of my decisions. Not even kidding.


And I passed it on. At least to Strat and Jack. Sorry, boys. It really sucks, but we are supposed to sweat. It helps rid the body of impurities and it serves as a temperature regulator. I would say that, through the years, I am pretty damn clean on the inside.


But I still hate it. I hate to sweat. I have actually tried deodorants that are supposed to curb sweating. Prescription deodorants. I have considered Botox injections in my underarms to prevent it. But, in the end, I am too cheap to do these things. Hmmm. Maybe not too cheap. Because I can afford it, and I am certainly not scared of needles. Maybe I just no longer give a shit. I am a sweater. And I don't really care. If my shirt gets wet, I change it. If my underwear feels less than fresh (yes, my butt sweats, too), I change it. If what I am wearing is too much for the weather, I change. I am at the point where comfort is a helluva lot more important than photo ops.


Yep, that's it. I just don't give a shit.

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