Sweat

Neck’s cramped facing the ~ left ~ I think in this new yoga pose I’m trying out to gain some bodily and spiritual equilibrium, in celebration of the 2020 autumn equinox. Libra season and all that jazz. Balance. Harmony. I’m noticing I’m sweating in places I haven’t ever swot before so I guess I’m getting on a bit in the age department. Still, though. At least the body weeps. My head’s forced to confront my calves and I think “fuck me, it’s only been a month” when I begrudgingly inspect the the orchestra of writhing leg hairs animating my otherwise still limb.

I’m never comfortable in it. It’s probably the only thing that I can’t get used to despite it being an experience that’s recurrent. Daily even. It’s sweat. The idea is organic: your body let’s go of water toward the surface of your skin in order to evaporate quickly to cool you down. Hairy? Not a problem. Sweat will favour you more so. An ideal candidate. A wanted victim. Let yourself be celebrated by Sweat’s brilliant consumer sales team.

Sweat