What’s Shaking, Bookworms?
I feel like sharing embarrassing truths with you today. TO THE CONFESSIONAL!
I sweat like a 70 year old man running a marathon in a bear costume. I’m going to go ahead and blame Dad for this genetic foible (along with the prematurely graying hair…) It’s weird because I’m not one of those people who are always warm. Most of the time, I’m Little Miss Cardigan catching a chill from the air conditioning.
The thing is though, when I do get warm, or do, say 3 minutes of cardio, get out the umbrellas, because it’s raining Katie sweat. I seriously gross myself out. It’s not just normal person workout sweat. I take a pilates class and I am consistently the only one who is dripping sweat by the end of it. It’s not even a class full of perfectly fit 22 year old girls… There are other women my age, middle aged women, and even a couple of older dudes. I out-sweat a 70 year old man on the regular. Because, you know, that’s totally something to brag about.
I have probably mentioned at some point that when I dream, they’re almost exclusively anxiety dreams (we can blame Mom for that little gift from the gene pool.) One of my most frequent dreams is that the powers that be have somehow nullified my high school diploma and I have to go back to school (because having a bachelor’s degree is just not good enough to prove my knowledge of high school things?) The class I have to take over and over again is Phys Ed. Of course. I’m pretty sure it’s out of vogue, but the ONLY thing I LIKED about my high school gym classes was the fact that they were segregated. Girls in one class, boys in the other. It’s bad enough to be forced to run laps around a gym for 20 minutes at a time, it’s a special form of torture to have to do it, in all your sweat raining glory, in front of boys. Thank God for small favors, amiright?!
Does anybody else want to admit to being gross and stinky so I don’t feel all alone as I wring buckets o’ sweat out of my t-shirts?