My Armpits are like two little Niagra Falls

There's one in every crowd. Maybe it's the girl cramming the night away, jittery on cups of coffee and nervous about the 7-page final. Or maybe it's the inebriated fool in the corner of a shady club, uncontrollably fist-pumping in the air, like he just don't care. Maybe it's the 5th grader, sporting her rad head gear just doing some algebra.

In case you didn't realize from the last description, I fall into the group of Sweaty Kids (I only had to wear the headgear from 7 PM to 7 AM, not terribly inconvenient and hey, I looked good).
Yeah. I get sweaty. In all kinds of situations, too. It doesn't have to be after a nice run on the treadmill. In fact, it's usually in situations in which some perspiration would be embarrassing.

It dawned on me today just how severe the problem has gotten. As my boss at work was trying to have some friendly chatter, My forehead felt like someone had chucked a water balloon at it. Embarrassed, I walked back to my desk and asked the pint-sized beauty queen sitting next to me, who typically never has so much as a hair out of place, "Uh hey, do I look... sweaty?" Her reply? "Actually yeah. Really sweaty. What just happened?"

Great. From what I thought was a few drops of water coming from pores turns out to be massive amounts of sweat all over my face.

Looking back, I see the signs. I knew this was my destiny.

When I was younger I couldn't move a yard without getting flushed and sweaty like I had just ran a marathon. My older fair-haired sister claimed it was due to my surprisingly, horrifyingly and almost incredibly hairy back (honestly, it's not that hairy ... I don't think). But it couldn't be my peach fuzz fur that shouldn't be on any girls back.

When I was even younger, the foreshadowing of my sweaty existence seemed to appear. I would wake in the middle of the night to tell my Mom I had gotten "really, kind of sweaty" in my sleep. I mean, yeah, it wasn't sweat and I had actually pissed the bed, but I already had my suspicions.

I guess what I'm trying to say, is that I know you're out there. And it's okay. Sometimes I get sweaty in inappropriate situations. At least I can address it.

I think I am going to start a support group. Together, we will perspire.