When I work out, I sweat. A lot. I sweat like an over-stuffed pig facing the Spanish Inquisition under a heat lamp.
It may not seem like a big revelation, exertion = sweat, right? But I know a lot of women who don’t. My mom is one of them. To be fair, I’ve rarely seen her really exert herself (except when I first moved to Chicago ten years ago and she and Dad helped cart my crap up to that third-floor apartment in Oak Park on the hottest day of the year – Thanks, you guys!!!! I love you!!!!)
There are a number of women in my office who go to the gym on their lunch breaks. I don’t know how they do it. There’s simply no possible way I could work out in my piddly little hour lunch break. If I didn’t sweat so much and didn’t need to shower and dry my hair and reapply makeup afterward, it might work, but that’s just never going to happen.
My dad sweats too. From his head, mostly. After working in the yard for an hour or so, he used to love to whip off his head band and hand it to one of us and say “Hold this,” and without realizing what it was, we’d take it. EWWW!!!! It was seriously gross.
The funny thing is that he mostly sweats from his head. I don’t know if he has more sweat glands in his scalp than normal people or if it’s just a German thing. And lucky me, I do it too. I’m not sure which obscure deity I pissed off to inherit that particular trait. I’m on the treadmill for less than five minutes before my scalp starts to itch. I’ve learned to appreciate the value of a good headband…
Luckily, my sweat smells like sun-kissed strawberries. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!)