Drastic Times Call for Drastic Measures: I am Going to Get My Sweat Glands Removed by a Black Market Surgeon

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I can’t remember the last time I wore a gray t-shirt in public without a sweatshirt to cover it. A gray t-shirt is like a kid pulling your pants down in gym class, it’s only there to embarrass you for your weird body. It displays my sweat from the pits to the back like it’s the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. That being said, most of my t-shirts now are black or white because they do the least amount of damage. But limiting my wardrobe from the most popular color of t-shirts is just the beginning of my woes caused by sweatiness.

Everyone’s like “well do you wear deodorant”, uh yeah? I got that free travel-size stick of Degree after the puberty movie in 4th grade and since then I been rubbing that white chalky substance everywhere each morning. It does nothing. Smells nice for the first 15 minutes as it valiantly tries to hold back my bodily fluids, doing more work than the Hoover Dam, but then it cracks and the river’s flowing by the 30 minute mark.

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This has caused a lot of problems for me. I start sweating, which then makes me nervous, so I sweat more. Once the sweat is prominent I’m like “oh I gotta cover this up” and toss a sweatshirt on or something, which makes me hotter, which makes me sweat EVEN MORE. It’s all a vicious cycle. Like depression, or bottomless chips and salsa at Chili’s.

This leads me to many inconveniences. If I’m going out I’ll wait to put my shirt on for the night literally until to Uber pulls up. I’m a big dance floor guy, and you know if I’ve had a red bull vodka and couple beers I am going to be shredding that thing until I’m looking like the post water-dumped girl from Flashdance…but with sweat.

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Then if I’m really blasted I’ll go home and fall asleep in my clothes and wake up legit soaking wet and have to spend like 5 uncomfortable minutes trying to figure out if I peed the bed or not. I affectionately call it “sweating the bed”, and I realistically call it “absolutely disgusting”. NOTE: I have never peed the bed drunk, it is always sweat. I am holding on to this little victory and will update if anything changes.

So what do I do? Well, there’s two common suggestions when trying to stop sweating.

  1. Talk to your doctor about getting some antiperspirant pills. I think people are overestimating my maturity with this suggestion though. I still go to a pediatric doctor. I’ve held onto my little baby doctor for like 4 years longer than I should have just because all they do is tell me how much weight I’ve gained then send me on my way. It’s painless. But I know once I go to a REAL doctor they’re gonna be like, “whoa you have high cholesterol”, “your spine isn’t aligned correctly”, “you have a concerning mole on your back” and I don’t have time for any of that. Ignorance is bliss, alright. Talking to my doctor is like opening up a Pandora box. Pandora bracelets are out of fashion, and I have no need for one.
  2. Apparently you can get botox injected into your armpits? The injection somehow blocks sweat glands or something? What am I a Kardashian? No shot some plastic doctor is gonna stick a needle in my pits and fill them up with tightening-juice. I also don’t have Kardashian money and this procedure definitely costs upwards of $1,000. I can’t spend that kinda money on cosmetic surgery. I need to save up for the real things that matter like lottery tickets and Chipotle.

My first option is more professional: get on the dark web and find a back-alley sweat-stopping knife-wielder to procedurally remove the sweat glands from my body. If I want to really get the job done and splurge for the extra cash (or should I say, crypto currency), I’ll head to the online black market. Let’s check it out.

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So it turns out google searching “the dark web” doesn’t take you to the dark web, BUT it does take you to a bunch of news articles that say you could be roped in to an entire syndicate of criminals for just googling “the dark web”. Looks like it’s time for option 2.

This idea is a more simple and feasible. I pass a ton of guys on the street on my way to work each day. They always stop me asking “Can I get a dollar?”, next time that happens I’m just gonna respond “Can I get a steady hand and a thin blade?”. Next thing you know I’m getting a dollar-menu pit-carving from a crack head behind the bus station.

Sure there might be blood, it might not be 100% effective, and the man might just stab me and run away with my personal belongings…but if it means I won’t have to spend literally every second of every day worrying about how wet my body is, it’s kinda worth it.

 

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