Crying Over Sweat Stains. It Still Happens.

I've been in a sad space for the last few days. I can't quite explain it, and not being able to explain it just perpetuates my sadness. AWESOME. 

Just moments ago I returned home and noticed the sweat stains all over my shirt. Pit stains. Torso stains. Back stains. 

Sadness flooded in like... I don't know what I'm so upset! I don't weep at every sweat stain. It's part of my identity at this point. I manage it. More times than not I am so used to being a sweaty person it doesn't phase me. If you've read other posts I think that's very clear.  

Then there are moments I can't help but feel so disgusting. I think why can't I just go for a walk without dripping through my clothes. My hands no longer sweat thanks to ETS surgery but my body melts down with any kind of physical exertion. I'm a healthy, active person and there is no reason I should be breaking this big of a sweat. Right now I'm crying over sweat. I feel exhausted. For those of you dealing with real problems, my sincere apologies. I'm over me too right now.

I watched Inside Out today. There's a wonderful lesson about sadness. Yadda yadda. Go see it. I won't spoil it for you. I had a rather lovely afternoon. 

I may not understand this sadness right now. Hopefully it will pass soon. It's a hell of a good reminder to book a therapy session because you can be doing just fine and get hit with an emotion like a sack of potatoes and feel like a sack of potatoes for no good reason. Well there are reasons but it doesn't totally make sense to me. 

I texted a few girlfriends this morning about the off feeling. One was feeling it too. Just yesterday I opened up to other friends for their opinion on my state of mind. One of the gals was dealing with something challenging as well. I had the comfort of knowing that I wasn't alone in navigating emotions. 

Emotions are fucked. Sweating is fucked. But it'll all be OK. I promise me and you that. Also, talk about the bad openly and others will open up too. You're not conditioned to be perfect. A friend once sent me a card that said, "Thank you for sharing your humanity." By sharing I find others give a little too. So I encourage you to try it. Share your true self -- sadness and all. 

Now that I've shared this with you I'm starting to feel a bit better already. Cheers. 

My Boss Calls Me Snowflake

How do you deal with hyperhidrosis? There is no quick cure despite what Twitter spammers might claim. For every solution there seems to be a side effect. I had surgery but I still sweat uncontrollably. I can't control or manage my sweat as easy as I'd like, but I can take ownership and responsibility in making my environment comfortable.

My boss started calling me Snowflake. The main reason being I'm constantly seeking shade when we're out and about. 

Snowflake originated when my boss decided she wanted to pick up a HoneyBaked Ham the day before Thanksgiving this last November. I tagged along for the journey. For my American readers, have you tried to get a Honey Baked Ham before Thanksgiving or Christmas? It's pure madness. It's as if we are required to have succulent ham for the holidays. I suppose we are, but my goodness.

HoneyBaked Ham, where you can work on your sun tan.

So there we were standing in a long line. Of course the sun was beaming bright. I think I recall it being around 75. That damn sun was piercing the line with its deathly rays. I felt droplets of sweat forming. The feeling is a familiar one. It's a feeling that I know if it continues will lead to a sweat-stain-embarrassing-disaster.

To my boss I said, "I'm sweating. This sun. I don't know if I can take it."

My boss, "Here stay in the shade. Stay as long as you can." The shade was a small sliver of cool created by a pillar. The shade lasted only moments.

Then my boss suggested, "Go in the liquor store. Go cool off Snowflake. I don't want you to melt."
And that's when Snowflake was born. I'm never ashamed to request the seat in the shade, or request some ice water. "Snowflake, are you melting?," is a comforting phrase.

My coworkers have no clue I suffer from a specific condition called hyperhidrosis, but they know I sweat and that I "melt". They know I get uncomfortable. They're also awesome for accommodating to my sweaty needs.

If you own it, you might just get an awesome nickname out of it.

xoxo,
Snowflake

Pantiliners for Sweaty Armpits

'Tis the season to fret over which dresses will and won't show pit stains. Last winter I spotted a simple yet beautiful royal blue sheath dress on sale. Pat on the back for my cost savings but immediate face palm for not knowing if this dress would show sweat. 

Classy for the holidays

Just look at that gorgeous color! How could I resist? I went all year without wearing the beaut. It wasn't until I threw my Third Annual Holiday Crock Pot Party that I had an excuse to wear it.

Yes, Crock Pot Party is exactly what you think it is. I invite a bunch of friends, they bring Crock Pots full of delicious food, there is one Crock Pot for hot cider, we drink, we are merry, and we have a fucking ball. This one was by far my favorite Crock Pot Party. 

Man friend not pictured. 

Leading up to the party I did no sweat prep. I didn't look to see if I had clean stockings without holes, I didn't see if I had a clean slip dress to wear under, and I didn't test the fabric to see how much sweat it could hold before a stain showed. Call me a wild woman.

I did go to hot yoga the morning of the party. This helps ensure I don't sweat for a few hours after. My nerves chill out a bit. 

30 minutes before getting dressed memories of past parties slapped me hard. I was reminded that it gets hot in a house filled with people, when I drink I sweat, and I start to sweat more when interacting with people I haven't seen in a while. HOLY SLOW COOKED MEATBALL WHY DIDN'T I PREPARE?

I called out to my roommate, "Laila! Can you come help me for a moment?" Her boyfriend was in the house so I couldn't quite request what I wanted. "Do you have pantiliners? I want to use them for the pits of my dress." Every so helpful she said, "Yes! And good idea!" No shame in asking.

Not just for your underwear.

I recommend buying a thicker liner. Liners that err on the side of a pad. Do not go cheap on this folks. Cheap liners will crumple up, not stick very well, and ultimately fall on the ground in front of the person you're talking to. I went with the store brand version of Always Xtra Protection line. Look for the purple box in the US. International readers if you have an equivalent let us know in the comments. 

The liners worked but not as well as I hoped. It hedged some sweating but not completely. I could've put new liners in midway through the party and that would've done the trick. 

Through the night I had no major sweat panics. Except for one brief moment. Man friend and I were walking outside when he leaned in to tell me, "There is a stain on your back." I FREAKED OUT internally. I slyly walked through the party trying not to show my back.

Was it a period stain? A sweat stain? I was feeling dewey all over. Oh my god I have a huge sweat stain on my back.

I go to my bathroom to see a small white spot of powdered sugar. I didn't even bother wiping it off. I marched outside and informed man friend that he gave me an unnecessary heart attack and to NEVER do that again.

It's reported to be 81 degrees in LA on Christmas. Bah humbug. 

Disney's Frozen for the Sweaty

It's screener season in Los Angeles. Friends and bosses of friends start receiving films in the mail to consider for awards season. It's a beautiful thing to watch new releases for free from the comfort of your own space. 

Last night the man friend and I watched Frozen at my request. I highly recommend this film to anyone with a soul. I'll warn the music isn't up to Disney classic standards. That said, I loved this film. My HH friends you will relate to this film.

Girl, I know that look.

I choked up when Elsa has her coronation to be queen. She wears gloves to mask her magical powers that torment her. Her hands tremble as she faces the crowd on what's supposed to be a joyous occasion. The anguish that almost paralyzes her is something we can all relate to with HH. How closely the story is tied to her hands is really something sweet for us. 

Also, Olaf is now one of my new favorite Disney characters. He gave me some hearty belly laughs. Thanks, Olaf you're the best. All things cheesy and delightful bring them my way.

More Olaf!

Although I was pumped to watch the film I wasn't the most relaxed to start. It was my last date night for a long while with man friend. We were a little frantic getting together since he completely forgot the actual date he was flying home for Christmas. He had planned for another day in LA while his plane ticket did not. So I rushed home and packed a bag to stay the night. 

I forgot to pack socks. Such an amateur move. How did I forget to pack SOCKS?! I threw on my lounge clothes and a pair of slip on shoes. It should be burned in my memory that when I lounge around I need to wear socks. This isn't a new revelation. I cannot have my feet dangling free. 

To top it off it was hot in his apartment. I immediately questioned if the heater was on. It was not. I then asked if we could open the door to let in fresh air. Fresh air was not making its way in quickly enough. Feet were dripping wet. I sat with my legs crossed hoping my pants would mop up the sweat. I became uncomfortable. I flopped around trying to find the perfect sweat wicking position. He was none the wiser of my droplets but I feared him finding out.

My body must have been radiating heat because asked if he should open a window. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YES. There was a nice cross breeze that moved through the stuffy apartment. Finally, I was able to kick my legs out across the couch and focus on the film. My sweating subsided. They were still clammy but they were manageable and less embarrassing. 

When we started chatting after the film the sweating started up again. A fun reminder that I can't always have complete control. I had a similar takeaway from watching Frozen.

I'm planning to have "SOCKS" tattooed on my arm real soon. 

You Have to Believe That They Are Wrong

You may have seen the Pork Chop video as I call it. More formally known as the To This Day Project. You may have sobbed, like me, while watching it. If you haven't or want to experience it once more, here it is:

I urge you to press play.

Ugh, I'm crying again. I'm a god damn mess.

Were you bullied in school? I wasn't really bullied but societal norms let me know right away I wasn't normal. 

Being bullied in school is something that stays with you for the rest of your life. More importantly, being bullied shapes the person you become. Within the first two minutes, cue tears hitting me like a sack of bricks:

We grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us.

Oh my god. That's me! Where the hell are the tissues. My tears burn right about now, damn mascara.
I believed those words growing up. I still cry myself to sleep as an adult thinking those words. At an early age I knew my sweating was something to be ashamed of. I was never bullied for it but I never felt comfortable confiding in anyone about it. Social norms were my bully. I learned to hide my abnormality and still do. When these words and feelings manifest in you at such a young age it is very hard to shed them as an adult. It becomes part of your makeup. Your secrets and insecurities shape your every decision. You dig a hole to feel safe but you don't know how to come out of the hole for a breath of air. You look around and not sure who you can't trust to get you out.

Despite a loving husband she does not think she's beautiful.

I was an ugly duckling in junior high and very unassuming looking in high school. Come college I was alright, and today I've come into my looks and even get ya know complimented by strangers. Yet, I can not believe it for myself. This has affected me tremendously with relationships and I experience swings of depression. I am not comfortable or confident in my own skin 100% of the time because, again, the feeling of being less than my peers was instilled at an early age. Living in Los Angeles among models hasn't be easy either.

Lived like the uphills were mountains, and the downhills were cliffs.

Visually that line in the video is incredibly beautiful. We've all been there. Wanting to just jump off the cliff. Surely it's easier than the insane feelings and thoughts coursing through us.

There are days when I feel I can't take on one more thing, or I don't have the care to try. I rather just jump off the cliff. Depression caused by hyperhidrosis is real. The video shows how kids are thrown prescriptions so quickly for their depression. Fortunately I am not pilled up for my depression. My mother experienced how pills and prescriptions for mental health turn you into a drone, a zombie. A prescription is thrown at a behavior too often in our society before digging at the core to see what is truly wrong. 

If you feel your life is for the better with a prescription for a mental or behavioral issue. I am all for it. But do not be afraid to question it. Everyday I have to work at my health to make sure I stay sane. It is too easy to spiral down. 

If you can't see anything beautiful about yourself then get a better mirror.

Living an active life and not sitting at home dwelling on my insecurities is my "better mirror." My self confidence is not where I'd like it to be but it is much higher than when I was in school. The working world has it's demands and it forces responsibility on you. If you're idle in the working world your dreams of a career quickly crumble. Furthermore, surrounding myself with active people has helped. Going for a hike is so much easier when I can call a friend to join me. 

There is nothing better than feeling your blood pumping rapidly after yoga. There is also nothing better than a drinking mimosa(s) on a patio taking in some Vitamin D on a perfectly sunny day in Santa Monica. These are the things that make me happy in a simple way. What makes you happy? 

There is something inside you that made you quit trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and you signed it THEY WERE WRONG. 

You have to believe that they are wrong.

What makes you fight? When I fight for me, and champion for my own well being I see that I attract other fighters. Other people who want to live a healthy life want to surround themselves with my company. I have some of the greatest friends in the world. We do amazing things. We have goals we want to accomplish. We like to be outdoors exploring the wonderful things that we're so fortunate to have access to. The people who are wrong, they have fallen away.

The people who are wrong still exist, but they do not hold a place in my life. I do not give them the time to influence me any longer. They are not invited to brunch at my house.

Hyperhidrosis has taught me compassion.

Hyperhirdosis makes me feel that I am weird. I'm gross. So when I meet someone who has their own insecurity I'm far more compassionate. When you're compassionate the world is a little lighter. 

In school, in the workforce, in the grocery store, wherever be a little more compassionate. Smile. You might just make someones day. Life is a fucking struggle and the nicer we are the better.

I am telling myself now to honk a little less. Oops. I've probably made a many of people want to jump off a cliff after honking. But seriously turn your god damn blinker off or get off your phone and drive. OK that one is going to take some work.

Be aware that nothing is not always as easy as it seems. I hope teachers and school administrators will learn this quickly. We must start pouring compassion to youth. As I've mentioned insecurities instill themselves when we're young. There are MANY phenomenal teachers out there, but there are many that continue to instill insecurity in school or mask with treatments that clearly don't work. To the teachers who have to fight a system to stop bullies and to get social services for their students, I salut you!

I am happy.

80 degree heat in LA today. Hiking solo and pool lounging solo. 

I have a lot of shit to work on, but I can honestly say I am happy. I'll keep fighting for happiness. One day I'll feel beautiful. Today I don't feel shitty or ugly.

Please share your stories and struggles in the comments. We need each other! Someone may need out of a hole and your story just might help them climb out. 

My Massage Experiences Illustrated with the Help of Jennifer Lawrence

I've had five massages in my twenty six years of living so it hardly makes me an expert. I am an expert regarding the anxiety of getting a massage though. Last night being the frugal fabulous city living lady that I am I broke down and bought a deal on one of those flash sites. My bargain promised a massage and body scrub in glamorous North Hollywood (read: potentially sketchy).

Below I recount my dabbles with strangers massaging my body for your reading pleasure (I hope). Good news! We end on a happy tale. Funny enough I'm watching Celeste & Jesse Forever and there is a massage scene going on RIGHT NOW. I call that a sign.

The Ugly - Reflexology
One of my girlfriends Sam decided we should go to one of those cheap massage parlors. You see them all over in LA and Orange County. They're generally $20-$45 for a quick rub down. Nervously I asked my friend to describe what its like.

She tells me, "It's just a big room of people. You have your clothes on. It's nothing fancy but it feels amazing." 

Slightly panicking knowing I couldn't get out of it, "OK so you leave your clothes on? I guess I could do that. It's just ummm my feet... they get... clammy." 

Sam was keen on getting her kinks out could sense I was ready to back out, "You will do fine. They put your feet in a bucket of water. C'mon let's go."

They touch your feet?

My insides were curdling. My knots were creating knots. The backs of my legs were sweating with semi noticeable sweat stains on my yoga pants. The trip was already completely counter productive.

It was just as she described. However there was so much emphasis on the feet as this was a reflexology spa. I use the word spa loosely. First putting your feet in a bucket of hot water I could feel the sweat tingle come on-- that slight sting feeling that comes with nervous sweating. Although they were in a bucket of water I just knew they were dripping sweat.

The old man pulled my feet out of the bucket after a few minutes and began to put pressure on them. By rubbing the feet with certain pressure points reflexologists can release tension in other parts of the body. It's pretty fascinating but very uncomfortable with sweaty feet.

I could not stop sweating. My feet soaked the pillow they were resting on. I was mortified. By the time he worked his way to my back I wanted to run out the door. Instead I stayed like a tense ball ready to explode at any moment.

I will never get a reflexology massage again. If you have sweaty feet and are tangled by the idea of someone touching your feet RED ALERT AVOID REFLEXOLOGY. I have friends who swear by reflexology and love a quick trip in an Asian oasis. I envy their ease. But at the end of the day that shit just isn't for me.

The Bad - Chatty Cathy
Right after my parents divorced my mom decided we should take a trip to Hawaii in an attempt to have a bit of peace. It turned into a sad reminder our family was no more. I digress though, I had some pennies saved and thought a massage could help my aching heart.

At 19 I was not confident in speaking up for myself. I let the massues do what she thought was best. I cringed as she massaged my feet.

She commented on my sweating.  That is one of my ultimate pet peeves-- pointing anything physically out of the norm on someone.

She had a tone like she was going to scold me. Then trying to suggest that I wasn't drinking enough water. Oh and she rattled on what was best for my acne. Congratulations lady you just announced that you are aware that I am sweaty. As if it was the first time I was hearing it. Good. For. You. Do you feel like you found the holy grail? I'm sorry I don't have a medal for you.

For fucks sake.

Wow. I just got heated remembering that moment.

Really though, this goes for anyone and any slight abnormal "thing" they may have. All that comes of it is embarrassment and the person who calls it out gets nothing. For the love of sanity think before you speak people.

The rest of the massage was fine. Just heightened insecurity is all.

The Good- Hot Oil. Rub it all over me.
The quaint spa in North Hollywood was a dream come true. The massues used hot oil which meant my sweat and the oil just kind of mixed together. I was confident the massues couldn't tell I was sweating and if she did she didn't say a god damn thing because she's the BEST.

Don't leave! I want this to last forever.

My massage was followed up with a sea salt scrub that again masked any and all sweat. The salt also helped leave my skin smooth and sweat free for a few hours after my relaxing retreat.

Parting Words
In conclusion, know that you're in charge and there are options for everyone. I always read Yelp reviews to get a sense of the spa. Just want your back and shoulders massages and hands avoided? Ask for it. You deserve it!

Let Jennifer Lawrence inspire you to enter a spa with confidence but not necessarily grace. She is true to herself and America is loving it.

Screw the norm. I get what I need.

Fall Out and Get Back Into It

"It hurts sometimes when you’re healing. It’s the sensation of your heart growing bigger. It’s the feel of your old scar tissue breaking up and stretching. It’s the tight and fearful knots of emotion opening up and learning to relax. Those old hurts were actually shrinking your heart with tension, the way tightness in the back can curve and distort the spine. I know it hurts, but you can learn to experience these feelings as intense sensation and simply surrender yourself; trusting that a new and better you will soon emerge. Fear and resistance will increase the pain. Love and acceptance will ease it. Let your Heart open wide. You’ll be opening up more room in your life for love."

— Dorothy Mendoza Row

The above passage was read in my yoga class this evening. Wow. I urge you to reread it. Let that sink in.

It hurts to heal. 

The scar tissue I have built up around my heart. Hacking through it. 

That is a powerful visual that I completely embrace and am so thankful for. 

I've begun trying to shed the fears I've developed from hyperhidrosis, but I had a bit of a set back recently. My friends and I had a fabulous evening drinking and watching the TLC instant classic made for TV movie "Liz & Dick." We were having a merry ol' time laughing and throwing out pithy one liners. I decided to take my comments to Twitter. My friend tweeting next to me leaned over to see my account. I hesitated. I froze a bit. 

Don't panic.

Him, "Hey what's your twitter handle?" I gave him my personal account. An account I wasn't tweeting from. He leaned in again to see the name on my screen. Clearly I was not tweeting from my personal account. Me, "Oh yea... I have another Twitter account. It's mostly teen followers. They might find this stuff funny." I straight up panicked. I began to get warm. I did not want to tell him.

What happened to the new confident me that was ready to be completely honest about hyperhidrosis?! I felt like I was failing our community of sweaters. 

In yoga during standing bow, my favorite pose, the instructor tells you to kick your leg into your hand as hard as you can, so hard you feel like you might fall over. They then follow it up with if you fall out of the pose get right back into it.

So, in that moment I fell out. I went back to the scar tissue. Thinking of all the times I've been embarrassed by my sweating. It hurts sometimes to move forward when you remember the past that gave you that scar tissue. I will sweat through it and get back into it.

If you have a story like this please share in the comments. How was everyone's Thanksgiving? Anxious for the holidays? Drop me a line.

Also, there have been some great questions posted on Tumblr. Check out what others have to say. 

A Pledge To Treat My Shoes With Better Care

 It's a magical moment when I come across a pair of shoes I can wear without socks. Don't you dare ask me to take my shoes off though. A sense of panic comes over me if someone has a no-shoes-in-the-house rule and I'm caught without socks (visual here).

The shoes that can handle it are usually made from cotton. My go to sock free shoes are TOMS.

By not wearing some sort of sock I am inevitably RUINING these shoes. Do you experience this?

Notice the white marks on the shoe?
Do you enjoy how I staged the shoes on my dresser?

The sweat changes the color of the shoes as pictured above. The salty residue makes for some nasty looking marks. Quite embarrassing. These are now dubbed my "bang around" shoes. Ya know when I'm painting, gardening, wood working... so I never wear them I guess. If you're considering buying a pair of Keds without laces, like these, I don't recommend it. They fly off my feet.

What I love about my TOMS are I can throw them in the washing machine. They come out a little wrinkly but they smell not nasty and no longer have the weird salty residue.

But I think it's time to take a little more care. No more reckless sockless shoe wearing. 

Whenever I wear dressy shoes I wear peds/shoe liners/mini socks/whatever you want to call them to help the sweat. Dressy shoes are so uncomfortable when your foot is sloshing about. These mini socks are a lifesaver. I've invested in a few more pairs recently to help protect all my shoes.

Found these at Target for $3 a pair.
I've also purchased similar socks at Nordstrom Rack and Macy's

When I was in high school they had mini socks like this available but they weren't as discreet. The mini socks would always show. In high school, when everything is a big fucking deal, those socks showing were mortifying! I remember dressing up for an event, had some cute pink heels but had the wear the socks. I can still hear Brendan saying, "Hey Sara, your socks are showing." END.OF.THE.WORLD.MOMENT. Kids of today you're lucky they make these super discreet "hidden shoe liners."

On the back of the mini sock is a little rubber like grip thing that helps keep it on your foot.
Look for this feature before buying. It's super helpful.

Mini socks in action!

Above I'm wearing a pair of shoes that hardly cover the top of the foot. Not a shoe I wear in foreign territory because the tops of my feet sweat. But you can see the socks are for the most part hidden. With a shoe that covers a tad more of the foot they are most definitely hidden from view.

With some basic web based research you can find some other products out there. Has anyone tried these liners?  Silver Linings: Odor & Moisture Absorbing Shoe Liners

Do guys encounter this problem? Obviously sandals are an issue for everyone with sweaty feet (Unisex sandals I recommend). I always see guys wearing socks or rolling socks down to hide under the shoe. What are your tricks?

Also, just ordered some foot detox patches at the recommendation of Jessie (awesome Twitter follower!). She's seen good results thus far. Her feet surprisingly don't sweat after using them. Fingers crossed I have the same results. Separate post on that later.

My Experience With ETS Surgery

ETS Surgery (Endoscopic thoracic sympathectomy) has changed my life in a lot of different ways. I hope to explore as much as I can in this post. Whatever I miss in this post it is bound to come out in a later entry.

Before I begin, I will consistently remind readers/sweaty friends that ETS surgery should be the absolute LAST option. Consult with your own doctors to decide what is best for you.

This is a hefty post and I hope you can stick with it. Ok let's get started.


Bagel Shop Crisis
The summer after I graduated high school I took a job at my local bagel shop. After two days I had to quit. Part of the problem was the owner didn't train me well, but the other reason was my sweaty hands. Putting gloves on and off was a maddening struggle. The sweat either trapped them on or created a jam when I put them on. My hands have a tremble/shake and when I'm under pressure it's exasperated. Cutting bagels with shaky hands is recipe for disaster.

I couldn't handle the morning rush. Bagels straight out of the toaster are fucking hot! I was fumbling around like a fool. The owner pulled me aside asking what the problem was. I simply said, "This isn't going to work out." And I left.

It was still early in the morning when I came home. My dad was just leaving for work. "What happened?" Well Dad, I quit. We didn't have time to talk about it. He rolled his eyes and went on with his commute.

My mom was home and I knew this would be my opportunity to really explain how hyperhidrosis was "ruining my life." I don't remember the words I used but I finally explained that my sweaty hands prevented me from schmearing cream cheese on bagels. I do remember midway through our convo running to my room. I dug up an old article from a teen magazine I had saved in a shoe box full of pictures and notes from my BFFs. The article was about a girl who had hyperhidrosis. When that article came out there was no Google for me to search 'hands that won't stop sweating.' This was the first time I heard of someone having the same symptoms as me. It was an OMG moment for sure. I cherished that article and it turned out to be a great way to explain something that my parents didn't quite understand.

I handed the article to my mom, "This is what I have." That was in 2004, so Google was around when I finally showed my parents the article. I had brought up my sweatyness to my parents previously but they dismissed it. For a long time I resented them for it, but as an adult I realize they had no idea what to do about it. It was easier to say, "You'll grow out of it," then figuring out how to treat it. So after our conversation and my dramatic end to a career in bagels I went on the internet and showed them, "Look there is a surgery for this."

Meeting Dr. Fischel
If you Google the name Dr. Fischel you will see a series of red flags from people attempting to sue him. That wasn't the case in 2004. He had a website that praised the results of ETS surgery and I was enamored. This was the answer to my prayers. Happy day!

He was also located in Orange County near the college I was going to attend, Chapman University. It seemed the stars had aligned.

My mom took me to my consultation with Dr. Fischel. He asked me to show him my hands. I raised them up so he could see the sweat dripping down. I began to cry immediately. Sob really, I could hardly speak.  I was talking about a problem I had suffered with in silence for the first time openly. I was overwhelmed with emotion.

He described the surgery and what was involved. That he had 100% success rate in stopping sweating in the hands. He could not stop the sweating in my arm pits and feet but they may be reduced. He briefly mentioned the possibility of compensation sweating. That some of his patients experience this.

Before I could proceed to schedule the surgery he said I would need to try a prescription strength antiperspirant. I remember he laughed it off knowing it wouldn't help in the least. My mom and I laughed too knowing it would be pointless. Regardless, we filled the prescription so we could move the ball forward on scheduling the surgery.

That was it. Surgery or antiperspirant, those were the two options he gave me. He also didn't ask if I had seen any other physicians or dermatologists regarding my HH.

My mom and I left that appointment knowing I wanted the surgery ASAP.


Dealing With Insurance
ETS Surgery is not cheap. Any operation where you're put under is going to cost you. I don't remember the total but my parents spent a solid year petitioning insurance to pay for it. As I mentioned in a post here, you have to be your own advocate to get insurance to cover treatment. And remember, if you are insured you have every right to fight for treatment. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Tips with dealing with insurance are available at SweatHelp.org.

Luckily Dr. Fischel was in the area I was living for college, as mentioned earlier, so this helped. I visited a primary physician to sign off on the surgery. I showed him my hands telling him this surgery was going to help me. "Of course! Let's get those sweaty hands taken care of." The doctor didn't think twice when writing a referral to Dr. Fischel. I had already researched my options, why would the doctor need to?

Now I know why people seek out more than one opinion. I did not and I regret that.


The Surgery
The summer of 2005 I had the surgery. There was an unprofessional hiccup from Dr. Fischel's team as they tried to reschedule the week before my surgery as they double booked the operating room. My mom being the awesome woman she is fought to keep the original date.

The surgery went off without a hitch. I was a little loopy after saying silly things but it was no different than kids after dental work. Drugs are the best!

If you want details on what the surgery entails you can see what Wikipedia has to say. It's not something I can describe too well and I don't want to say something inaccurate.


I'm Cured... Juuuust Kidding

After the surgery my hands to this day do not sweat. It still blows my mind. About a year or so later the compensation sweating became very noticeable. I have stopped the sweating in one area but I have not stopped the sweating completely. The sweat moves to other parts of the body and that is considered compensation sweating.

I knew I had a serious problem the summer I went to Washington DC. I just turned 21 and was so excited to attend Alpha Kappa Psi's bi-annual convention. This is a co-ed business fraternity I am in. I was able to confidently join the fraternity because of the surgery. Lots of hand shaking is involved with the pledging process. Yet, I noticed sweating in new areas and at extreme levels. I came to the DC convention prepared with lots of tank tops to layer. I've always worn layers to help cover pit stains, but this was different.

Some serious bonding went on during the convention. You meet so many great people and I had a fucking blast. One night a group of us decided to go to a club. I was DRENCHED in sweat. My face, arms and hands were the only parts of me that were dry. I was so embarrassed when the guy I fancied tried to dance with me. Here he was showing interest like I had hoped, but I didn't want him to touch me in any way. We danced and eventually got close. We attempted to kiss but I was so uncomfortable it went horribly. He also seemed surprised to feel how damp my body was. I remember I left a wet mark on his shirt. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I wanted to crawl into a hole and never be seen again.

When it was time to leave I made a deliberate move to go in a separate cab than him. When we all got back to our hotel I ran to my hotel room looking to change my clothes. My friend and bunk-mate called me out on the odd behavior. The fella I liked took my running away as a sign as I wasn't interested... or so I remember, I could be making that up. Regardless he shied away. I was self conscience in a whole new way. Before I was merely afraid of a guy touching my hand. Now I didn't want to come in contact at all. Luckily I can say for certain this fella wasn't the love of my life but it still sucked.

I thought maybe this was just due to DC weather. It was August after all. Maybe this was just something I would endure in humid weather? Nope. As I type this the backs of my legs are sweating profusely. I do not go a day that I don't wear a tank top under my clothes.

I've gone from fearing hand shakes to fearing hugs. Will they feel the sweat on my back?

I kid you not, the other night I was out with friends and I was tapping myself on my upper back to see if I could feel the sweat through my jacket. I wanted to make sure when I hugged people goodbye they wouldn't feel something damp.  I do the weak half assed hug now. You know the one where you're hips are a good three to four feet apart and you merely lean the chest forward and tap the shoulders. I cringe waiting for someone to call me out on it. Or if they bring me in for a legit hug to comment on how damp I am. Neither has happened.

I've also come to embrace the Irish Exit.
Urban Dictionary Definition: More specifically, the Irish exit refers to the departure from any event without telling any friends, associates or acquaintances that one is leaving. You leave without saying goodbye.  It is almost always the result of being very inebriated/intoxicated.

Rundown of Side Effects I've Experienced

• Eating: The back of my neck and chest sweats when I eat fast or eat warm foods or drink warm drinks.
• Spicy Food: My face sweats when I eat anything spicy. I have to ask for salsa on the side and I love Mexican food. This is embarrassing but I ham it up with the taco truck vendors, "Sorry! I'm a gringa"  Smile and nod as adorably as possible. If I'm at home I'll eat spicy stuff. Sometimes it feels nice to clear out the pores. 
• Boob Sweat: My boobs sweat a lot more. I've had more than one experience of a girlfriend of mine grabbing a necklace I'm wearing and getting a bit of sweat on their hands. Weird that that's happened twice, I know.
• DRIPPING Body Sweat: I can't walk down the street without coming close to sweating through my clothes. LAYERS all the time. It's not cool when a guy wants to disrobe you before sex and you have to fling all your clothes off immediately because you don't want him to touch your sweaty clothes. Also when I lay out at the pool I am constantly jumping in the water. Sweat? No, no that's pool water. Oh, you're not convinced? Time to jump in again.

I cannot emphasize this enough. DRIPPING sweat. Large beads of sweat. My body would sweat before but now instead of my hands dripping my body is. Mostly my back, chest and legs. 

• Sweaty Knees: When I go for a run or hike I have really weird lines of sweat running down. No one else has legs that look like this. I'll need to take a picture for you. If I'm in a setting that's 65+ degrees just sitting my legs are much sweatier than before the surgery. 
• Upper Back Sweat: Racerback tank tops are my best friend. I also have a good collection of cotton dresses that I can wear under my dresses. 
• Slower Heart Rate: My heart rate is slower. Can't really say that this is a negative but worth mentioning.

I can also go without sweating at all. You can read about my wonderful experience in Mammoth. But on that same trip I did experience extreme sweating. The extreme sweating is not constant but occurs daily at some point and is very inconvenient. 

Side effects are not limited to those mentioned above. Other serious complications can arise. 

You can read more about the pros and cons of ETS surgery here.

Conclusion
I am very sad to know that there were other options I could have explored first before surgery. I took what was a localized problem in my hands and spread it all over my body. I also deal with sweaty arm pits and feet but those too can be treated without surgery. I am hoping that treatment with Glycopyrrolate I will be able to control the compensation sweating. Before I would avoid certain social situations because of my sweaty hands. I still avoid social situations but in totally new ways.

It's a trade off not a cure. Professionally I am much more confident, but I can't say that I am further along in my career because of this surgery.

I am still dealing with hyperhidrosis.

Mammoth Trip: Climbing and Sweaty Encounters

Last weekend some buds from college and I went to Mammoth Lakes, CA. A Living Social deal for a rock climbing excursion prompted the weekend getaway. We could not have picked a better weekend. While it was 95 hot as hell degrees in LA it was a 70 wonderful cool degrees in Mammoth.

Sorry Natalie, don't mind my hair in your face.

Derek was my first friend in college.
He was also the first, of very few, that I told I had hyperhidrosis.

A lovely break from the city life.

"Shut up. You sweat?"
My friend Natalie and I weren't lucky enough to have vacation time from work so we headed up around 7:30pm on Friday for our six hour drive. Hours on hours on hours to talk.

As of late, relationships have dominated our conversations. Natalie and I are fairly inquisitive so given a long stretch of time we can get in to some really juicy topics. We were only about an hour in when hyperhidrosis made it's debut into the conversation. Natalie asked frankly, "So what are your insecurities when it comes to guys?"

There it was. My window of opportunity. Here it is Sara, run with it. I made some noises and a few words that didn't make a complete sentence. I had about 5 more seconds before Natalie was going to ask if I had a stroke and could no longer speak properly.

"Funny you should ask. I don't know if you've ever heard me complain about being sweaty. Well it's an actual condition called hyperhidrosis." I was clearly holding my breath too long as after wards I felt winded. I put it out there. On the table.

"Shut up. You sweat? I never noticed." She never noticed. I questioned this thinking of our friends birthday party in June where my clothes were soaked. Thinking of our trip to Palm Springs just a few weeks prior where I had to leave the bar we were at because I was so uncomfortably sweaty blaming my early departure on being tired and my phone needed to be charged (it did need to be charged.) She didn't notice? Really? Each friend I have told has said the same thing. "I've never noticed," sometimes adding, "I've known you for 5,6,7 years. How did I not know this?"

Natalie went on to divulge her own insecurities. We were both completely surprised by each others hang ups. I can say that drive was a huge eye opener. So many laughs along the way. At one moment we feared we missed a highway change because we were so engrossed in conversation. Recalling previous trips to Mammoth, "I know we're on the right highway when the road feels like 'Rollin with the homies'" It's a series of short hills. We in fact were on the right highway but I was thinking of a different one. We didn't get to roll with the homies.

Brittany Murphy you will forever be remembered for

"Rolling With the Homies" in Clueless. Rest in peace, girlfriend.

It was about 1:00 am when we arrived at our hotel. After six hours I was straight up crazy brain. GET ME OUT OF THE CAR OR I WILL EXPLODE. In addition, Mammoth is in the mountains. That means high altitude. That means the air is thinner. That means I was on a permanent high all weekend. I could not stop laughing when we finally met up with our other friends. They thought for sure I was nuts. I wish I could relive that moment right now.

The mini vacation started out perfect.

Climbing in the Shade = GLORIOUS 
As a sweater I tend to over pack especially if physical activity is on the agenda. That said, I took a bit of a risk not thinking the day through properly. We started out with a walk around one of the lakes (gorgeous), and proceeded to get some lunch. I was living on the edge because I didn't bring a jacket or change of shirt in the event that I sweat through my top and got cold. We went straight to our climbing appointment at 2pm. We wouldn't be back to our hotel until about 6:30 pm when it would be quite chilly. I thought for sure I'd be screwed.

Airing the pits out.

Helmets add legitimacy to extreme adventure.

Let me address the pink elephant in the room. You're probably wondering how someone with hyperhidrosis could ever go climbing. In some of my posts (here and here) you may have seen I had ETS surgery. My hands don't sweat. It's funny though, climbing with clammy hands is actually helpful to get a grip on the rocks. My dry hands slip just as they would if they were sweaty. Climbers with hands that get too sweaty use chalk. This isn't enough for HH dripping hands. You will want to invest in some gloves. If you have any desire to try climbing I hope you don't let sweaty hands stop you. The climbing community is generally friendly from my experience.

Back to our adventure. Our instructor, Zach, took us to Horseshoe Lake to climb. It was shady and about 60-65 degrees. SCORE! I hardly broke a sweat. I have experience climbing in a gym so my nerves were calm. YAY YAY YAY. I don't remember the last time I did any physical activity where I didn't sweat. I break a sweat walking down the block to the liquor store. Thin chilly air, marry me.

Zach was awesome with his instruction and he got along with our quirky humor. Two thumbs way up for Sierra Rock Climbing School. The experience reminded me I need to get back to a climbing gym and conquer my fears of outdoor climbing.

"Finish my beer then I'll buy you another drink."
 When it was clear we were just about done with climbing I had Mexican food and cocktails on the brain. It was 40 degrees and I got to wear my pea coat! We had a great dinner recounting the day and then proceeded to a recommended watering hole. Let's booze bitches.

Knowing I get super sweaty when I drink I started a little cautiously. It was so cool in the bar everything seemed to be going well. I was sweating in my crotch region but nothing my jeans couldn't handle. Pits were doing good with my multiple layers. I ventured out on the dance floor. My friend Derek and I proceeded to do what we always do on the dance floor... dance like we're on Dancing With the Stars. We twirled, dipped, spun and got our heart rate up. I took a moment to check how I was feeling. Dry. I was dry! So I danced harder. I was also given a shot from some new friends we made.

Things turned rather quickly. I went from dry to wet in a matter of 2 minutes. I was concerned but my sweat wasn't noticeable yet through my clothes. I chugged some water and was still sociable. That was until dudes started gettin handsy.

It's common practice for fellas to put their arm around you or on the small of your back. It's not creepy. It's a small gesture to let you know they're interested. If even for the moment. At this point I don't want anyone to fucking touch me. Of our three new friends one started in a drunken stooper to make a move on me. Keep your paws off you normal seeming friendly nerd guy who I know has no ill intention. UGH.

I still laugh though thinking about his luring line. "Here. Take this. Here. Finish. Finish my beer. And then... I'll buy you another drink." Giving me this wink and nod type look. Oh woe is me! Steal my heart, sir. As soon as he went to the bar I made a MAD DASH to the bathroom. Toweled off in a moderatley drunken state in the stall. I exited and grabbed my friends, "We need to go immediately." Sorry dude I'm sweaty and cannot be seen. "Wait. You're leaving?" Yup! Hive five man, I'm out.

So I made up for my lack of sweating earlier that day. If I had to choose between sweating during the day and the night. In this instance, I would've kept everything the same.

Climb on!

YouTube Find!

I did a basic search tonight on YouTube for HH. Through the power of the interweb gods I stumbled upon MelMel21's videos. A 20-something, like me, putting her voice out there.

I'm working through a post describing my experience seeing a doctor today for the first time in seven years regarding HH. SEVEN YEARS. I will be posting in the next day or two. Until then, I give you Melissa:

How awesome is that? I continue to be amazed by the strength and courage of those speaking out about HH. I also have a sense of GIRL POWER. Don't mind me I'll now be listening to Spice Girls on repeat.

Riding on the Metro

Never really having access to public transportation I've often romanticized about trips on a subway. Much like the sexy music video from Berlin. We all know it's not sexy. It's aesthetically unpleasing, generally noisy and for Angelenos a foreign concept. I live about a mile from a Metro station. It's close but not that close. Taking the Metro in Los Angeles is more of a novelty to people with cars which is a solid majority of people. This past weekend in LA was FYF Fest and hoards of 20-somethings ventured out to ride the Metro. Myself included.

Watching Father John Misty under a tree. Beating the heat.

Getting Dressed

Before we get into my journey to FYF Fest, let's talk about the agonizing task of deciding of what to wear. I hadn't done laundry in about three weeks which means my favorite cotton breezy sweat wicking clothes were dirty. And my go to tank that doesn't show sweat I had been photographed in many times. Didn't want that tank showing up on Facebook again (really stupid reason in hindsight). Fuck. This music festival is outdoors, I have no idea what the grounds look like, and the sun is beaming bright. I'm going to be DRIPPING. What do I finally decide to wear? A dress with an under dress. The double dress. I debated if I should throw on some bike shorts to avoid chaffing. "Nah, I feel fine. This should be OK." I grabbed a thin jacket for in the evening. When you sweat through your clothes you will be cold after the sun sets.

The Journey

After walking a mile in mostly shade I thought I had done a good job at keeping the sweat minimal. I go to buy my Metro ticket. I'm sanding idle waiting for the person in front of me. I can feel it. Beads of sweat marching like an army on a mission on their way from my butt, down my crotch and inevitability parachuting down to the ground for combat. I can imagine the pool below me forming and growing. It's of course not. My inner dialogue is that someone will say, "Ma'am I think your water broke." I start moving my legs and awkwardly adjusting so my underwear can soak up the sweat. The sweat dance. I should've worn the god damn bike shorts. What am I twelve though?

I am finally seated in the nice air conditioned train/subway (?). I'm pleased that I have some time to relax and get the sweating in check. Two stops later a middle aged guy asks if he can sit next to me. I gladly move over one seat offering him mine. He turns to me and says, "Were you sweating?"

OH MY FUCKING GOD HOW DOES HE KNOW?!

Me: Uhhh I don't know
Stranger: Oh it's just that it's damp. Do you feel that?

I feel the seat and honestly I don't feel any sweat

M: I don't know
S: Are you sweating?
M: I walked a few miles to the Metro [that's a lie]. I was hustling.

The man starts to lean forward and adjust on the chair. Trying not let his back touch the seat.

S: Yea, sorry it's just I don't want my clothes to get damp.

My sweat army is marching in full force. Panic mode has begun and I'm sweating even more.

S: Are you having a good weekend?
M: [WTF] Yea I am. How about you?
S: Yea, but it could be better.
M: Oh, sorry to hear that.
S: Oh it's a good weekend. I mean just being unemployed and all.

I'm nodding along and thinking how the fuck did I get stuck talking to this guy?!

S: So where are you going?
M: A music festival Downtown.
S: Oh yea? What kind of music?
M: uhhh yea know rock... and... roll... all kinds of stuff
S: Oh cool. How old are you?

Do I lie? Do I say I'm younger? older? Is he going to kill me?

M: 26
S: Oh. Are you from another state?
M: Nope. From California.
S: Sorry you're probably wondering why I'm asking all these questions. It's good to be social.

Dude I wrote the book on being social. I just don't want to fucking talk to you. I feel awkward as hell and why do I owe you the time of day?

S: Did you see where Santa Monica was blocked off for [don't remember what he said]
M: No I didn't
S: Oh. You didn't?

I cross my leg the other way and their is a little bit of sweat from where my leg was.

He reaches over and touches my thigh and says, "OMG you're sweating."

As if we hadn't ALREADY established that. I firmly say, "DON'T touch me." He then proceeded to apologize and claims he really hopes he accepts my apology. LEAVE ME ALONE.

He leaves a few stops before mine and I was fuming. I wrap my jacket around my waist fearing I might have a sweat stain on my butt. Oh and he told me doing that would make me sweat more. Thanks for the advice Stranger.

My Happy Place

I finally get to the festival. Damp. I had some time to hang out under a tree to watch Father John Misty's set. I cooled down and was able to regroup alone. There is something kind of peaceful of watching a band by yourself. I later met up with some friends and we were able to relive our youth a bit to sets from Cursive and the Faint. I danced and bopped around not caring about any sweat. Good music and friends I felt OK to be my sweaty self.

I leave you with this awesome music video from Father John Misty. If you can see them live I recommend it. The frontman is a hippie character who moves like water on stage and provides the crowd with some great zingers.