Arrragh!!! Pit stains! Damn, dude.
Yeah, they’ve become a problem. Used to be, I just needed D.O. for my B.O. The anti-perspirant was not necessary. Just a wipe under each pit for some good smellin’, and I was off to the junior high dance or whatever to sit in the corner, smellin’ fine but getting’ no love from the ladies. I’m wandering off track… my pits. They used to be naturally dry.
Now, hell, even as I type this, my pits are soaking. The rest of me isn’t hot… just me pits. It’s a goddamn mess is what it is.
When I was a young but large pup I’d sometimes have to borrow my dad’s undershirts and these were troubling times. The pits on those bastards would be, at best, stained yellow. At worst they’d be stiff. Hard even. Like the damn molecular structure of the tee shirt’s pits had been altered by my dad’s combo of sweat and D.O. I thought my dad was disgusting. And I was fookin’ right.
But now so am I. Disgusting I mean.
I’ve tried different kinds of anti-perspirants. Right now I’m sporting Arrid Extra Extra Dry. EXTRA. EXTRA. DRY. … Um … ARRID. That even means "dry" (with an extra "r", sure, but let’s assume the definition is the same). Like a desert my arms should be. And yet… yep. My shirt is wet. Under both arms. I even wore a tee shirt to combat the pit stains to no avail. The sweat has gone through my undershirt, all the way to my … "over" shirt, which is light blue. Except in the armpits. There it’s dark blue. Is problem, yes? That’s when a thing becomes an issue for me. When others can see.
I’m not even DOING anything. I just sit on my fat ass all day long. It’s not hot in the office. But my pits are sweating.
I find myself wondering if this is just a part of growing up. Except that… post-puberty I didn’t have this problem. It’s fairly recent. It’s not a body hair, pimples, voice changing, and pubic curlies thing. I’d been out of that puberty racket for a while before the schweaty pit shit started. No… this is … something entirely … different.
Could it be that I’ve been gaining weight at an alarming rate since the mid-nineties? Now all that extra fat is catching up with me? No, I know fatter people who don’t sweat like this.
I decided to pray to God to see if He could help me, one of His children (as we all are here on Earth). Here is my prayer:
"Hiya God, D.J. here. Yeah, so, uh, still working on that filmmaker thing, huh? Right.
Anyway, I gots a new one for Ya’… My pits. Yeah, You probably already know about this (because You know everything and all). They’re a little too sweaty for my tastes. Could You dry ‘em up?
Oh, and, since I got Your ear here, everything on me is big: my nose, my ears, my chin, my feet, hell — I mean, heck, all of me… all but one … thing. What up? Could You fix that? Just want everything to go together, dig? Proportions and whatnot.
So, uh… thanks.
Oh — Amen."
Here is his response:
Yep. No talkin’ anymore. Happened in the Bible all the time, but not, it seems, in real life — I mean… nope, that is what I mean. Be that as it may, actions speak louder than words. To wit:
1. No movie deals.
Two: My pits are still sweaty, my shirt still stained.
C… Ain’t no bigger where I want to be.
What up? In trying to get some Holy help with my sweaty pits problem, I’ve opened a whole ‘nuther can o’ worms: I’ve been forsaken.
That’s what this is really all about. Fuck. It’s depressing.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go towel off my armpits… |
