Just when you think you’re a sweaty genius…

Bulleted lists, be damned! I have more important things to share today!

First off, you should know that when my body is forced to exert itself, I sweat profusely. Not girly sweat either. Man sweat. Well, OK, not as stinky as man sweat, but I’ve got some kind of gift. Trainers have bragged on it, high school boys teased me about it in sports…it is a certified fact that this chica sheds that water.

So, imagine my panic when I arrive at the gym this morning with barely enough time to grab a spin bike for my favorite cycle class, and I realize…OH, MY, GAWD! I forgot to use deodorant!

Now, I’ve forgotten a lot of things before. I have been known to put on an entire face of makeup, but forget to put on mascara. (When you have blond eyelashes, trust me, this is not a good look!) Heck, I forgot to go to my room mom meeting just yesterday. I sweat. And, I forget. This is a part of who I am. Got it?

But, I’ve never forgotten deodorant before. I’m usually quite disciplined with it. I even used to have a “back up” roll-on in my car console for those extra sweaty days after a class when I run to the grocery. Say what you will, but I’m considerate with my stink whenever possible.

Sitting in my car, I knew this could be bad. This particular spin class is so dang hard and I always sweat like a mo-fo (yes, I actually did just say that). So, I scoured my car console for something–anything to help. Perfume? Nope. Lotion? Nope. Car deodorizer that I could rub on my pits? No such luck.

And, then I saw it there–like a lighthouse beacon calling me home.

My handy bottle of hand sanitizer! It kills germs right? Isn’t that what causes the stink under your pits anyway? This should work. In fact, this is genius!

I discretely poured it in my hand and then tried to wipe it under my pits without dripping it all over creation or causing big rings on my workout tank.

Somehow, and I’m not sure how, this worked out for me. I marvelled at my ingenuity. Go ahead and give me those lemons, I will make that lemonade I tell you!

Walking into class, I found my bike and began getting on cycle shoes, adjusting the bike settings,  and so forth. Pleased that I could not smell the tell-tale alcohol scent of the sanitizer, I wondered how it would hold up. Maybe I’m really on to something here, I thought.

That’s when I realized that the seat was broken on the bike I’d chosen. Then, the instructor had me sit in the front. I freaking hate the front. Aside from feeling like you are flashing your buttcheeks to every other person in the class every time you have to do a standing climb, there’s just TOO much mirror for my taste. I don’t enjoy looking at myself that much, quite frankly.

And, that’s when I noticed it. I was right by the Sweaty Cycler. The guy who comes 30 minutes before class with his headphones and stays 30 minutes after. The one who sprints the entire class and who most of us have watched melt into a skeleton form over the past year. And, also? He’s the guy who brings a bath towel and puts it on the floor to catch all the sweat that pours off of him.

But, one little thing I didn’t know about the Sweaty Cycler before? One thing I could not have known from my next-to-the-back-row typical bike position?

Yeah, homeboy has some serious B.O. 

We had not even started class and I could smell it. Great! Just great, I thought. And to think I desparately doused my pits with hand sanitizer only to find that no smell that could come from me was going to peep out above this guys stench. Sigh…what a waste….