There are several things I dislike more than sweating. But sweating in a nicer social event is even worse. Yes, I realize I live in Arizona where it is hotter than Hades itself, but there is a reason why I live in the mountains and not in the 6th Circle of Hell that is Phoenix. I have never understood those people who have outdoor weddings in the summer in Phoenix (sorry CallieBear…I love you but it was freaking HOT). I do not want to feel puddles forming in my shapewear as I sit there watching a beautiful event. Ever tried to get sweat soaked Spanx off to go potty and then back on again….the amount of animal noises I make getting them back up triples from the first time I put them on and usually occurs in some sort of public bathroom. I am a fat girl and fat girls do not sweat pretty…just saying.
Normally, outside functions in Flagstaff are beautiful as we have gorgeous weather in the summer. Today, however, I went to a graduation ceremony that was outside that felt like a special hell. You know the one…the kind that they reserve for child molesters and people who talk in the theater (Browncoats who read this just rejoiced over the reference). Not only was it outside, but there was no shade. And I made a fat girl mistake. 1) I wore black pants. 2) I wore my long hair down. 3) I wore NO sunscreen. Yeah. Not my best effort today. To say I felt like a fat girl being dipped in the chicken fryer was an understatement (but that does remind me of how much I love fried chicken. And now I am craving KFC). I think I even felt my toes in my sandals baking in the heat. The fact that they turned into little red sausages was my first clue. The sweating started gradually, but soon there was no denying the fact that my fat rolls had versions of the Great Lakes forming under them. Knowing that there are family pictures to be taken after the graduation did not help. How do you explain why the fat girl in the photo distinctly looks like she went for a ride down Splash Mountain as she is drenched in her own sweat instead of magical water from a mountain where Brer Rabbit and his pals try to lull you into a sense of peace with their singing before you plummet to your death in a fake log with no seatbelts (can you tell how much I hate that ride?)? Ugh. There is just no way to get rid of the Great Lake sweat puddles in the fat rolls either in a graceful manner. It’s like I need my own sign that says I am a Wet Zone like at Sea World. Hmmmm. That sounded kind of dirty. It’s not like a fat girl sweats a little bit either….we tend to sweat a lot and in really weird places. I mean, who sweats in their crotch for goodness sakes? Oh yeah…this fat girl does. Great. Now I look like I wet my pants too. Awesome. And lets not even begin to discuss the river of sweat that pools into my bra….that could create a tsunami I am sure if I were to try to dump it out not to mention also not very graceful. But would be great for photo bombing other people’s graduation photos. I should have thought of that!
I also want to apologize to my readers for not writing lately. Been a hard week at work and I was not in a good frame of mind to write. Pretty sure it might have been venomous if I had….no one needs to face the fat girl wrath except the Ninja Kitten and she promptly got locked in the closet on one of the shifts. Sigh. Silly kitten. But no worries, dear readers, I am back without the venom and I won’t lock you in a closet unless you ask me to do so (freaks!)!
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did end up with skin the color of a tomato as I proudly watched a graduation but I didn’t die. I am fat girl now with dry clothes and a sunburn running. The experiment continues.
I just watched that episode of Firefly last night! hahaha. Don’t feel bad about turning into a sweat-monster….I lived in Phoenix a LONG time and I was always horribly sweaty in the summer.
So, I live in a SweatCity too, but I’ve found the solid CertainDri stops me sweating. I’ll go for a run and I’ll sweat everywhere BUT my pits where I have on the stuff. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with rubbing a stick of the stuff all over in extreme situations. Who would know? And I think I must be the last girl on the planet not to wear spanx. It just seems so uncomfortable…so I guess we all have our dirty little secrets.