#Sweaty girl sorty full#

If it looks like I’m getting emotional as I slow clap, it’s because I am - that, and there’s sweat in my contacts. Just keep on running like we know you will - and when you’re done, walk out with your head high. And whether we’re Sweaters ourselves or just a little too close to your machine, we feel it, too. But we see how hard you’re working on that treadmill. Sure, the smell of your dinner last night is coming through, and not everyone likes asparagus. So don’t despair that you’ve got a “low hug count” in the gym, Sweaty Guy. That pool below my sopping face isn’t just a mirror, my friend - it’s a nametag that shouts “Property of me, now.” And nobody’s gonna touch any of my post-yoga gear, at least not on purpose. So we can’t keep our hands from sliding around on that yoga mat! It’s as I always say - anyone who claims they’re not all hot yoga classes isn’t keeping their core engaged. So we’re not the most desirable guys to guard in that weekly shirts-and-skins pickup game! We spin that to our advantage, don’t we? They call the way you play “gross” I call it “slippery.” Like a jewel thief or a hairy fish with a decent hook shot. We do get to look like we’re working hard - literally all the time. Around 8:30, the game was finally over and we were getting into my car to go to Nick’s house. I could only imagine how sweaty Payton would be once the game was finished.

#Sweaty girl sorty full#

We do get to wear those miniheadbands on our forearms for an actual reason. Payton, and all the other girls on her team, were wearing their full uniforms with long sleeves, pants, and knee-high socks. It’s a change in attitude, isn’t it? To remember the positives when you’re wearing socks to bed as foot towels? To strut out the latest sweat-wicking technology like it’s a three-piece suit on prom night? Because there are positives, Sweaty Guy. Some might call the way we refuse a towel “stubborn” - I call it sweat-positive. You and me, together we’re gonna put an end to the sweat-shaming. That’s right, SG, I too once feared the pit stain!īut those days are over for us. You’re not the only person who used to wear black as more than a fashion statement. I’m here to tell you you’re not the only one who can’t keep his ear buds from slipping out of his ears. Well, you can stop WebMD-ing it, Sweaty Guy.

On the lonelier days it’s enough to make you wonder, “Is it always hot in here … or is it just me?” Perhaps you’ve felt the cold recoil of a Dry palm from your clammy handshake. The Dries tend to think everyone is a Dry or maybe just that everyone should be. You know the ones: those few people who never perspire, even when they’re eating spicy food on a date or drinking hot coffee with a jacket on. There may be days when you yearn to be one of the Dries. You, sir, are an inspiration to the Sweaters. Well, maybe you did, but the point is that right now you stand for something greater than yourself. You didn’t come to the gym to make friends. To that guy with the Tarzan flow drenching the treadmill with his own personal monsoon: Pay no attention to the glares as those machines around you empty.