my loathing of boob sweat

For every season, I seem to have a particular thing I really dislike about it. In autumn, well…there’s not much I really dislike about autumn. It’s probably my favourite season unless we’re coming into spring and then it gets trumped by pure virtue of winter being gone, but autumn does have a level of melancholy and overcast skies that mess with my poor noggin, so I’ll call it that.

In winter, I resent all of the goddamned layers I need to don (or not) because it seems like every day presents a new challenge and no sunshine. I love me some sunshine. Also, our city streets are NOT AT ALL pedestrian-friendly in the wintertime. So, while I don’t resent winter for that, as such, I do resent the politicians that don’t do anything about it.

Spring is fun because the sun is back, but it’s mucky, smells like dog shit and comes with the leerings and jeerings of others once we start to don skirts and sundresses and shorts and tank tops.

All of that said, there are few things I hate more than having bigger tits in the summertime. There is one thing I find more repulsive and that’s my propensity for leaving a trashcan with yummy things in it that, if left for a couple days while I escape to the woods or summat, will grow friends. And by ‘friends’, I mean ‘maggots’. SO GROSS. But by ‘propensity’, I mean ‘this has happened once and now I’m so freaked out about it that I am probably destroying the environment by putting the trash out too often and destroying my psyche in doing that.’

I am seriously freaked out about that shit.

Second to that is boob sweat. We’re talking underboob sweat, sideboob sweat, ‘twixtboob sweat and everything in between. I feel like I’ll ever have enough bras to keep up with what must be the 167 litres of stinky, salty bodily fluids I must pour into them every day. And I SWEAT. I don’t fucking ‘glow’ or ‘glisten’ or have ‘the dewy moistness of youth’ or any of those other damned euphemisms people use to make the excretory process sound so much more pleasant. I. FUCKING. SWEAT.

It’s not the sweat itself that I mind so much. Sweat can be a really sexy, empowering, sultry, and HUMAN thing. It often means, particularly in hot weather, that our bodies are working. I like that about sweating. I shan’t get into the pleasures of building a lather and stink under the hands of a lover, but just tonight I ran errands in the heat of the sun on a rather hot and humid day and came home and felt all of the sweat I’d generated dissipate under the shade of my sumac grove and the calming of my blood flow and the crispness of beer. So awesome…so blissful…except for the boob sweat.

Boob sweat sticks to you. Taking a bra off doesn’t help. Being naked doesn’t help. You can’t escape it. Everything’s trapped in and under and betwixt and it’s not comfy and it makes one want to have 28 showers each day and at least three more if I’m looking forward to sexy times. It’s yucky and makes me cranky and I don’t want to deal with it.

In short: Boob sweat sucks. Someone please invent a hover-bra already.

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