When Mr. G and I started dating 47 years ago, I often told him "Ladies do not sweat. Ladies glisten."
47 years later, the jig is up.
I am a huge sweater. And not just in the ol' pits (as a matter of fact, thanks to that fancy prescription strength deod you can now get at any store, my pits are the LEAST sweaty part of my anatomy). I walk up a flight of stairs and I sweat. When I run (whole other story) and workout? I mean, look out, I am a soaking wet, bright red freak. But at least then it makes sense to sweat, so it's cool, right? Right???
On my little trip up to Toronto, my boss, who is the worlds most athletic human being, with the worlds longest legs, decided walking from the airport to the hotel would be a nice quick thing to do after traveling all day. We had our huge roll-y suitcases with us. It was 64 degrees and sunny. He walks an eleven minute mile. We got lost and that four block walk turned into about eight.
I knew I would be sweaty by the time we arrived at our swank and fancy hotel. But I didn't know how bad.
Until I was leaning over the granite counter at check-in and drops (big, huge fat drops) of sweat fell from my face onto the counter.
I was literally wet. All over. Head to toe wet. Soaked right through my three shirts. My hair looked like I had just showered. I smelled glorious. GLORIOUS I TELL YOU.
None of this is important, I just wanted to share with you that I am the worlds heaviest sweater.
Lots of sweaty love,