Let’s Talk About Sweating—Because, Honestly, Why Not?

Alright, let’s get real for a second. We’re diving into body fluids—not the most glamorous topic, I know. But hear me out! I’m not about to make this an anatomy lesson; we’re keeping it simple. Today, I just want to talk about sweating. Yeah, that lovely little function our bodies insist on performing, sometimes at the most inconvenient times. And if you’re like me—someone who deals with hyperhidrosis—then you know it’s more than just a little inconvenient.

For those of you who haven’t been introduced to this charming condition, hyperhidrosis is excessive sweating. And when I say excessive, I mean next-level, drenched-for-no-reason kind of sweating. Specifically, I have cranial facial hyperhidrosis, which means my hairline and the crown of my scalp. Cute, right? Now, let’s add another little fun fact: My sweating has led to thinning hair right on the crown of my head. And let me tell you, when you’re constantly sweating from your scalp, having less hair to absorb it does not do you any favors.

The fix? Botox. The problem? Insurance won’t cover it, and I don’t have a casual Botox fund sitting around. So, what does that mean for me? Hats. Lots and lots of ball caps. If you ever see me rocking a hat in the dead of summer, just know—it’s not a fashion statement, it’s survival.

The funniest part about all of this is my husband constantly telling me to stop worrying about it. I wish I could just turn off the overthinking switch. But the truth is, I worry about sweating all the time. I avoid going outside in the summer, I dread the gym, I feel awkward in social situations, and don’t even get me started on intimacy. You know that moment where you’re supposed to be in the zone, all passionate and carefree? Yeah, nothing kills the vibe like feeling a pool of sweat forming on your forehead and dripping onto your partner.

And let’s not pretend sweating only happens in the obvious places. Oh no, it’s an equal-opportunity offender. Underboob sweat? Check. Thigh creases? Check. Lady bits, man bits, whatever bits you have? Absolutely. If you’ve ever done that little side-to-side shuffle to unstick yourself from a chair, congratulations—you’re part of the club.

Let me take a moment to shout out my personal hero: LUME. If you don’t know about this magical, life-changing product, allow me to enlighten you. This deodorant isn’t just for your armpits, this stuff can go everywhere. It keeps everything fresh, dry, and most importantly, comfortable. If you’re not using it yet, do yourself a favor and stock up. Your future, less-sweaty self will thank you.

Here’s the thing—I know nobody’s actually staring at me, judging my sweat situation. At least, not in the way my brain tries to convince me they are. But when you’re the one dealing with it, it feels like everyone is watching. Every little drip, every damp spot, every time you wipe your face for the millionth time—it can make you self-conscious to the point of avoiding things you actually enjoy. And that’s the part that really sucks.

So why should we keep feeling embarrassed about something literally everyone does? Sweating is normal. Sometimes, it just happens a little extra for some of us. And instead of hiding it, stressing over it, or making it weird, maybe we should just acknowledge it, laugh about it, and move on.

If you see me out in public and I’m sweating don’t ask me if I’m okay. I promise I’m fine. Just keep the conversation going and act like you don’t notice the fact that my face looks like I just stepped out of a rainstorm.

Let’s Just Sweat Together

At the end of the day, this is just my little way of putting it all out there—of saying, “Hey, this is something I deal with, and if you do too, you’re not alone.” Because I know I’m not the only one. And maybe by talking about it, by normalizing it, I can stop stressing about it so much myself.

So, here’s to all of us who sweat a little (or a lot). Let’s own it, embrace it, and most importantly—let’s just not be weird about it.

Yes, this is my attempted raising awareness.