Sweat
As I slipped into my first knitwear of the season, I was overcome with gratitude. Gratitude for the cooling weather and relief that I have a little more dignity in my working appearance.
Those of you who have known me for a long time, and I am sure it comes as no surprise to those of you who don't, know that I have a long standing relationship with sweat. Sweat patches to be precise. I know I am overweight, but I am convinced that even though this is the case, I sweat more than the average bear. Now to a historical examination of my sweatiness, with a warning to those who have not have not eaten yet...
White polo shirts at school was never an excellent decision for a teenager in general, the wears of the day would inevitably be strewn across my front: grass, sauce, biro, chalk. However, for the longest time I could not place the strange yellow marks across my back. Teenage hypochondria would have me dying of some strange malady, often tropical or malarial, I didn't know how my body could produce a strange yellow band across my back. Empirical investigation ensued and I discovered that the varnished wooden chairs were the culprit. My sweaty back would come into contact with the varnish and then they would make friends with one another, leaving a permanent reminder of the chair across my body. A jersey or jacket was the answer to this conundrum, so I slipped into one of these, even in hot weather. In the winter months grey serge was another poor material choice for a uniform. The dark grey patches became a constant companion even if I gassed everyone with Lynx. So I matured into my sweatiness.
The next time this became an issue was when I got a job at Woolworths. Again I was beset by poor fabric choice. Nylon is a hard wearing fabric. When they decided on a uniform, navy is a hard wearing colour, but man, when you are pushing trolleys on a hot day in the Mount, it just sucks. The consequence is that I ended up walking around like a cowboy, heat rash was my constant colleague in the carpark at Bayfair Shopping Centre. Hence my effort to shift onto the checkouts. I was learning avoidance. A good plan.
Though working inside makes for less perspiration, my sweatiness came back to haunt me with a vengeance when I walked back into the classroom. My friends at Manurewa high School can attest to playing 'spot the sweat patch' in the staffroom, not too difficult I'm afraid. Two instances illustrate my affliction vividly. One illustrates the evils of the 'wicking' material.
Rejoice! A shirt that wicks the sweat away from your body. That's a good idea! What a pile of shit. I was the proud owner of a bright orange 'wicking' shirt from Kathmandu. Probably had a stupid name: Altitude Tron 5000 or BaseCampTechFibreComfortPlus...
Anyways, I had a crit lesson where my Head of Department would come in and assess how the first year teacher was going. I was stressed out. It showed. Down the back of the class I watched Clive struggle to maintain his composure, not a confidence builder. When a group of students got the giggles, i was feeling really let down. Clive must have noticed and called me to the back where he asked me if I was alright.
Yes, I am okay.
You look a little stressed.
Oh, really *weak smile*. Why?
Look at your armpits.
Wicking material works on the presumption of a wider surface drying area helps a shirt dry out quickly. It takes the sweat off your body, into the material and hey presto, you are kept nice and dry.
Well it certainly did its job.
I had two pizza sized sweat patches growing from each of my armpits. The students appreciated my feeble attempts to explain how wicking fabric works and had a great laugh. Clive enjoyed it too.
The second involved a favourite purple shirt of mine. A mid to dark purple, it had a tailored cut and I liked it. it didn't like me. Not on a hot and busy day. I had a first period running around as a busy Dean and then walked into the staffroom. Tim, never backward in offering wisdom, asked me if I had been running around. My shirt looked as f it had been tie dyed using dolly parton as a clothes horse. I had a anatomically correct sweat stain outlining every fold, crease and cranny. This was a good time to go home and change. Voluntarily. Which brings me to the Cooks.
I knew that I was coming to a humid, tropical environment. I have had sweaty days, but then so has everyone. I found much comfort in the fact that people have sweat towels which they use throughout the day, sometimes it even lies on your shoulder. Everyone is a little sweaty.
A little sweaty.
History repeats itself. A wicking shirt and a hot day. Very humid. When I walked into a small air conditioned room after coming in from a school my manager looks at me with a confused expression.
Did you get wet he asks.
Why no I didn't.
Really? It hasn't been raining?
Really.
My wicking shirt was being extreme tested and was absolutely soaked. I looked down and realised what my manager saw. A soaking person. Soaking with sweat.
To his credit he managed the situation very tactfully. Instead of laughing, vomiting and turning away in disgust or posting it straight to Facebook, he suggested that I might fall ill if was damp all day. Bless. To think that I could catch the flu from my sweatiness was a new frontier. So was the fact that I got sent home to change. Sent home because of sweat - a new one to check off the bucketlist. The shame.
Another subtle hint was the manitary pads my colleague Tas gave me. Much like a Libra, with wings no less, but with two adhesive stickers and a fold in the middle.They are designed to stuck to your shirt under your arms. I decided to road test these babies and put one under one arm and au naturel with the other. One must have a scientific approach to indignity and shame. Later in he day we went to check on the results and I found that I had lost it somewhere at work. The horror. Sadly, it was just not upto the task. I did manage to locate it in a meeting room. Wouldn't you like to have found that Easter egg!
Hence, you can now appreciate my joy. My pleasure. My happiness, at once again moving into weather where I once again sweat like a normal person. God bless cooler weather!
