Get ya sweat on

This week’s food for thought – excessive (and unnecessary) perspiration

It is killing me to admit this, but I have to face reality – I am in denial about my sweating problem. For months my body has felt the need to excrete copious amounts of bodily fluid, all the while I have just been reassuring myself with the notion “hey you have just come back from England, your body temperature gauge (is there such a thing?) needs time to readjust to the balmy Australian climate." In my defence, I have just lived in a country where you would describe zero degrees as a warm day and the occasions where a scarf and gloves were not firmly attached to your body, were that of a rarity. However, unbeknown to me, it turns out that this tirade was not fooling anyone. Lets be honest, there is nothing remotely attractive about sweat. Especially at a 21^st where it looked as though I had taken part in a water bomb fight and then overheated so badly I had no choice but to fashionably tie my long sleeve shirt around my waist (as per the image below)

More recently, a BBQ I hosted turned in to a sweat intervention, when my health problem became the hot topic of conversation. You might be asking, how does ones sweat take control of a social situation? Well, as I was cooking the bbq I became increasingly aware of the formation of beads of sweat that were beginning to ooze from my forehead.  I was just waiting for someone to say something. And like clock work Kades – ever the comedian - pipes up with “Cuttsy those sausages don’t need any more salt.” It was on for young and old after that,  with the conversation and jokes flowing freely (much like my sweat) for the next 15 minutes. After much consultation with yahoo health (and self diagnosis as a Diaphoretic) I decided to take my findings to the doctor to see if he could shed light on my ‘condition.’ While sitting in the waiting room today with people that actually had legitimate illnesses, I quizzed  him about eratic body temperatures and unwarranted perspiration. While I could lie here and say he looked at me as though I was some sort of medic marvel, he instead had an a expression that would accompany a verbal response of “you're a cockhead.” However as he couldn’t pin point the problem we will go with the medical marvel angle. As you read this I'm probably just about to commence fasting so that I can undertake a series of very important medical tests tomorrow morning. I’ll be sure to keep you posted of any changes or improvements. So now you know . . .  and next time your out and dressed up to beat the winter chill, don’t be alarmed if you catch a glimpse of me in a pair of shorts and singlet looking as though I'm shooting a rexona advertisement – the before shot!

Bye for now

Cuttsy

Reverse Culture Shock

This weeks food for thought  . . . reverse culture shock (self diagnosed)

What feels like a lifetime, is in fact just two months . . . A staggering two WHOLE months since I have been back in Oz. Just putting it out there - hands down the most emotional and mentally turbulent time of my life. For friends reading this, I do apologise. Who would have thought that the ramifications of a once in a life time international exchange would be so catastrophic and raw. I certainly didn’t . . . So what have I learnt? Well . . . firstly and what I consider to be the most poignant of my new found ‘knowledge and wisdom’ is that some times you have to hit rock bottom in order to appreciate what you have. I’d hate to think what would have happened had I not decided to pack my bags (once again) and return back to Kalgoorlie to feast on the finances of my folks – pathetic I know. That first month was a blur of delicious hang over’s, dwindling finances, anxiety attacks and times where I just didn’t want to get up off the bedroom floor. And while you may snigger or pass judgement at the fact I have only actually been here a measly 6 weeks and you’re probably thinking “cockhead what the eff are you wanking on about” I choose to ignore your judgements as this time, where I have coined the phrase “finding myself,” has been the best decision I’ve made and could have made given my circumstances. And while my little ‘hiatus’ has now dwindled down from weeks to now days I am ready to go back to Perth and get on with life. I’ve taken to writing a list as of late – I suppose you could call it a bucket list – and jotting down a few ideas of what I what would like to achieve in the short term. So far I’ve nailed it down to poaching an egg, making home made gnocchi, spending a day at adventure world (still debating if its strange to go alone), buying a bike (good for the physical and the mental) and swimming laps a few times a week. I should probably try and throw some work experience. I’m really making leaps and bounds in 2011 aren’t I (sarcasm for those who aren’t familiar with my demeanour).  Anyway I’m still nutting out the details, but I’m yet to place Morgan Freeman or Jack Nicholson. Not quite sure where they will come in to it at this stage. Anyway its getting late so to wind this ramble up, I think its only fair that I dedicate this entry to Kalgoorlie; behind a façade of flat caps, bogan’s in black tee shirts and goon that can only be purchased between the hours of 12 and 4 pm – you lent me a life line. Cheers bud. Otherwise who knows where I would have ended up – I’ll take a stab and say probably lying on the floor nursing the mothers of all hang overs, while on hold with the National Bank cancelling another lost credit card, thinking to myself “what am I doing here, have I made a terrible mistake?”

Bye for now.

Cuttsy