I’m about to go out of town to Laughlin, NV for their River “Regatta” (it’s a river rafting run). It’s hot in Laughlin in August. I sweat when it’s hot. I’ll only be in Laughlin for the weekend, but I’m packing enough shirts as if I’ll be there for over a week because I’ll most likely be changing shirts at least twice each day.
I hate sweating. I really, really do. I sweat all the time, doing even the lightest of physical activity or in any temperature higher than 73 degrees. I’m usually sweating by the time I get out of the shower, probably from just scrubbing my fat ass. I sweat when I stress out, I sweat when I’m around pretty women, I sweat in any type of competitive game, even video games and billiards. Sadly, I’m not exaggerating the least bit.
The only time I’m okay with sweat is during exercise. And sex, especially if the woman is sweaty. It means she’s putting some effort into the fun too. Except my contribution of sweat is probably a bit more profuse. Anyway, all the other times? Not cool. I don’t like my pits showing sweat. I don’t like when I can feel sweat drip under my shirt and soaks through my shirt in spots. I don’t like it soaking the collar around my neck. It’s embarrassing. I hate it.
On one hand, I know I’m going to have fun this weekend, even though it’ll be hawt as heyull outside while I’m floating on that river. But it’s also going to suck as I’m sweating my balls off. They’re going to dehydrate into little raisins. I’m going to sweat a river of my own out there.
