Friday, August 8
Shower to Shower
It is an exercise in futility for me to take a shower anymore.
Normally, this wouldn't be a problem since we all know how much I hate having wet hair. But since I've been living in California in August, all that has changed.
I have never sweated so much in my life. Because I am literally sweating every minute of every day and I'm one of those people who normally can exercise for twenty minutes and barely perspire. I'm jealous of my housemates who are guys and can walk around in just shorts. Adam is boycotting shirts.
I have the fan on during the day, the fan on and the windows open at night, I keep the lights off, I wear tank tops and light cotton shorts — in fact I usually spend most of the day in my pajamas because they're the lightest cotton things I own. And I've already sweated in them so there's no point in changing.
And yet, I still sweat. Profusely. It's 3 a.m., I just got out of the shower, the fan is on, the window is open and I can already feel the sweat between my shoulder blades because I've leaned up against a pillow to type this and I'm wearing a t-shirt. And now I'm lying on my stomach, propped up my elbows and the crooks of my elbows are starting to sweat. I just got out of the shower and now I need to take another one.
It comes down to two choices: either I shower every hour on the hour or I don't shower at all. Since taking a shower twelve to sixteen times a day would make my skin like sandpaper, I think I'm gonna have to go for not showering at all. So if you smell my armpits from fifty feet away, it's not my fault — it's California's fault.
Heh, puns...
Normally, this wouldn't be a problem since we all know how much I hate having wet hair. But since I've been living in California in August, all that has changed.
I have never sweated so much in my life. Because I am literally sweating every minute of every day and I'm one of those people who normally can exercise for twenty minutes and barely perspire. I'm jealous of my housemates who are guys and can walk around in just shorts. Adam is boycotting shirts.
I have the fan on during the day, the fan on and the windows open at night, I keep the lights off, I wear tank tops and light cotton shorts — in fact I usually spend most of the day in my pajamas because they're the lightest cotton things I own. And I've already sweated in them so there's no point in changing.
And yet, I still sweat. Profusely. It's 3 a.m., I just got out of the shower, the fan is on, the window is open and I can already feel the sweat between my shoulder blades because I've leaned up against a pillow to type this and I'm wearing a t-shirt. And now I'm lying on my stomach, propped up my elbows and the crooks of my elbows are starting to sweat. I just got out of the shower and now I need to take another one.
It comes down to two choices: either I shower every hour on the hour or I don't shower at all. Since taking a shower twelve to sixteen times a day would make my skin like sandpaper, I think I'm gonna have to go for not showering at all. So if you smell my armpits from fifty feet away, it's not my fault — it's California's fault.
Heh, puns...
Labels: conundrums, hygiene, irritants, stress
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