I hate sweat. And I hate other people’s sweat (or any other bodily fluids for that matter). In my Saturday yoga class, there is a particular man who sweats—a lot. I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but he sweats enough to fill a kiddie swimming pool. I see him across the room just dripping puddles all around him. He’s across the room for a reason—I purposely place my mat as far away from him as possible. I can’t sympathize; I’m not a Sweater. Sure, if it’s a hot day or I’m working out, I’ll perspire. But that’s it. I’m not a human sprinkler.

One Saturday as I was waiting for class to start, the owner of the studio tapped me on the shoulder. I needed to move over to make way for HIM. Crap. What do I do? Would it be too obvious if I picked up and completely moved? Yeah it would, so I reluctantly stayed put.

About 15 minutes into class, I saw the beads start to form on his skin. “Oh no,” I thought, “Here it comes.” And like a dam breaking, sweat fell all around his mat—and mine. I watched those drops incessantly, mindfully aware where each one fell.My sweat stays on MY mat

The worst part was the guy wasn’t even trying to contain his perspiration to his area. He’d wipe his body with a towel, and then throw it to the side, which landed on my mat half the time. C’mon! Show some consideration on my behalf. The blood must have been rushing to my head in Down Dog, because a drop of sweat 2 inches away actually started mocking me!

“Ooooo…I’m coming closer. And don’t think I’m alone; there’s more where I came from.”

All right. By then I was done. I skipped the final pose and angrily tiptoed around the drops out the door.

But my contempt for Sweaters completely changed when I took my little brother Chris—my favorite person in the world—with me to a class this past Saturday. We soon found out that Chris…is (gasp) a Sweater. Within 15 minutes the poor kid was just dripping. Shocked and somewhat embarrassed, Chris looked at me and said, “What’s happening to me?” as if he was morphing into Teen Wolf or something. Chris didn’t know he was a Sweater, nor did I.

In all fairness to Chris, the class was extremely full, so the air quickly became hot and stuffy. Even I excreted past my normal volume. But watching my poor little Chris suffer, I knew it wasn’t his fault. Chris told me after class that he thought to himself, “Ya know, this isn’t going to stop. So rather than be embarrassed, I’m going to embrace it.” And then he didn’t care. Maybe that’s how the other Sweater thought ( the one I try to avoid). He can’t help it, so he’s not going to worry about it (thus the careless towel tossing) so everyone else should just get over it. Fine. I won’t hold sweating against you, but I’ll still set up my mat as far away from you as possible.

**So if you date Jenny, you WILL be joining her for yoga. And if you are a Sweater, don’t worry. She’s getting over it and starting to accept Sweaters. If her brother is one of them (who she loves very much), then she can love other Sweaters too.