I Should Explain: I Sweat Profusely From My Face

“I’m not crying. These aren’t tears. Just rivulets of human sweat relentlessly coursing down my face.”

Photo courtesy of Paramount Pictures

It’s getting a little warm in here, isn’t it? Damn. I should probably warn you. I’m a Face Sweater. Which is to say, I sweat profusely from my face.

The rest of my body sweats at a normal rate. It’s not like I’ve got a closet full of pit-stained jackets and overcoats. And I’m definitely not one of those revolting, back-sweating animals. No, I sweat almost exclusively through my face. And when I do, I do so copiously.

I’m not crying. These aren’t tears. Just rivulets of human sweat relentlessly coursing down my face.

I can tell by your look of shock and horror that you’re alarmed. Please don’t be. These torrents of perspiration are normal for me. Until I get somewhere below 65 degrees, my colossal sweat glands will continue to spew forth still more of their hot, salty discharge, leaving my hair, collar, tie, etc. (but mostly my face) awash in sweat.

Is it uncomfortable? Absolutely. My face-flesh is, paradoxically, both sticky and slick. It feels like the gum rubber of a briny SCUBA suit, or a recently used personal massager. All on account of the fact that my face is totally, completely, overwhelmingly soaked in sweat.

You’ll forgive me if I don’t wipe my brow. It just ends up being a Mickey Mouse, Sorcerer’s Apprentice-type situation: bucket after bucket, each filled to the brim with sweat from my face.

You need not mask your disgust. It’s okay. I get it. My face — specifically how much it sweats — offends all five senses. (That barely audible, belch-like sound you’re hearing is indeed my cavernous pores diarrheaing still more sweat.) You’re not alone. I’ve been known to clear crowded theaters when they behold the sight of my grotesque, sweat-saturated face.

But honestly, the shame of being a social pariah isn’t the worst part of having a sweat fountain for a face. It’s the side effects. When you disgorge gallons of perspiration through your face, it’s no wonder dehydration becomes an issue. I get crippling migraines, bouts of delirium, and dry mouth like you wouldn’t believe.

I know what you’re thinking. Dry mouth? Why not just drink from the endless geyser of sweat that is your face? I’ll tell you why: Because my face sweat has the same salinity as the Great Salt Lake (and approximately the same total volume).

Also — and I’m just trying to be upfront, here — I urinate only once every four to six days. And when I do, it’s an excruciating crystalline paste. All because I excrete virtually every ounce of my waste water, you guessed it, through my face, as sweat.

At this point, my ejaculate is practically dust.

That’s not typical first date information, I know, but Tammi said you like a straight-shooter. In that spirit, you should probably crack a window. Once my face sweat starts evaporating it’s going to get downright muggy in here. And while I can’t smell it, everyone tells me the sweat from my face isn’t exactly odorless.

Oh, thank heavens! The AC just clicked on. My face is cooling down already.

Now we can get back to getting to know each other and sharing a meal. What are you having? I order everything Thai Hot with habanero peppers on the side.

Scott Eckert is a comedian, writer, and actor in New York. He has a website, two cats, and (as of recently) a baby.