Today Gabe is wearing a white t-shirt, blue shoes, and probably some kind of shoe. And green sunglasses.
Earlier this week, before my Tuesday yoga class, I had to admit something to myself that was hard for me to admit. I had to acknowledge that the level of sweatiness I achieve during an average yoga class is so significant that I actually needed to purchase a small towel that I could start bringing to class with me to deal with my sweat situation.
It’s something that had been at the back on my mind for a few weeks — most often when I was in class, watching sweat fall of my face like fat, heavy raindrops and pool into treacherous, slippery wet spots on my yoga mat.
When I sweat in yoga class, it is no dewy, yoga-wakes-up-my-senses glow. It is I’m-an-out-of-shape-old-man-doing-yoga-in-a-sauna level sweat.
(And just in case you’re wondering: no, I don’t do hot yoga.)
For the last few weeks, I’ve treated the sweat situation as a weird anomaly. “Oh, remember last class when I was so sweaty? I hope that doesn’t happen again.” (Spoiler alert: it *always* does.) And when my body heat rises and the sweat starts going, I have the same thought process every single time.
First I wonder: do I have some insane level of toxins to get out of my body, and that’s why I’m sweating so much?
Then I wonder: maybe it’s because I drink so much water during the day, that I just have a lot of sweat to give off?
Then I think: Jesus, I wish I knew anything about science, or anything at all.
Then I think: I’ll google this when I get home.
And then I never do.
I spend the bulk of every class looking for opportune times to wipe down my face with the front of my shirt, which by the end of class, is basically just soaking wet.
And so this week, I had to admit to myself that what I was doing wasn’t working. I needed to bring in outside help. I needed to buy a little towel to bring with me to yoga class, because I was not going to be able to will myself to just stop sweating.
You guys! What is the deal?
To be fair, the yoga class I do most of the time is pretty athletic — it’s meant to be a challenge and push your body, which is why I like it. But like, no one else is sweating this much. No one else is constantly (or ever, actually) wiping their faces off to keep sweat from cascading into their eyes or dripping onto their mats, where they might later slip on it, let alone actually spending real cash money on a small towel because even wiping your face on your shirt doesn’t cut it!
I go for runs twice a week and never seem to get this sweaty, even when doing aerobic exercise. Maybe because there’s usually a breeze cooling you off when you’re running, but none in yoga?
Either way, it is very undignified and I am a little ashamed that it’s come to this. But at least I have admitted that I have a problem and am taking the proper steps to live my yoga life. I’m living with embarrassing yoga sweat, not dying from it.
Anyways, I have two urgent cat updates.
Romeo, my printmaking muse, is back in a new print that I did last week that I really like!
The other cat who’s back is my howling neighbor cat, who I haven’t seen in weeks, but who showed up on my doorstep being very civilized and relaxing casually in the sun.
The last time I saw it, I had opened the curtains to the big sliding doors that look out on my back balcony, and as I stared out the big glass window while lying in bed, probably trying to take a nap or think deep thoughts about something depressing, it walked by.
At first it startled me, but as I was lying perfectly still and deep in thought, I just stayed there. And it stayed there. We just stayed there looking at each other until, without warning and without breaking eye contact, it began to howl.
I rolled my eyes.
Then, I didn’t see it for a long time. But out of the blue yesterday, it sauntered up the stairs to my deck, circled a sunny spot, and then silently lay down and curled up to soak up the heat.
I’m cautiously optimistic that we’ve turned a peaceful corner.