Sweat yo tits off.

Walking through the streets of Bangkok the other night, a stranger who we had just met asked me politely, "So, do you, um, get accustomed to this heat?" Said stranger was sweating so much that every single item of clothing on his body had turned into a clingfilm-like material and I could see his nipples through his shirt. It appeared that he was in the beginning stages of slowly being suffocated to death by his very own clothes. This man was clearly in the early stages of imminent death and so there was not much I could do to save his life. I thought I may make his flight to the heavens slightly easier if I just lied to comfort him. "Yes", I said, "Of course you do." However, as I was saying these very words, the fringe that I had freshly cut moments before was stuck to my head so fast that I feared I would have to cut it again even shorter just to release it from my forehead. 

The truth is: No. You do not ever get accustomed to the heat. Unless you are asian, in which case I am sure that they are so advanced in their race that they have adapted into something that I can only imagine to be half human, a quarter camel and a quarter amphibian to be able to cope with the relentless heat. Whilst I lope around the streets looking like a pre-historic barbarian man-woman with my clothes stuck to my back and a constant wet patch on my arse, they waltz around looking cool as cucumbers. The closest they get to "glowing" is when they are 7 months pregnant in the middle of summer. Even then, they don't perspire, they merely have a fine sheen across their beautiful amphibian foreheads. It really is not fair. 

I really wish someone had forewarned me about these conditions before we embarked on this adventure. I'd heard that Thailand was hot, but this is just something else. It's the kind of heat that makes you want to vomit. It makes you want to rip off your clothes in the street and scream bloody murder at taxi's because they wont pick you up becase you're too sweaty and will undoubtedly ruin their suede seats with your foul perspiration. It makes you drench yourself, your jammies and your bedding before you close your eyes and drift off into another sweat filled nightmare. I wish I knew these things beforehand. This is some advice you may need when visiting Thailand: One may experience one or all of the following symptoms from the heat: an unsightly heat rash, constant slipping in and out of your shoes, fainting, diarrhoea (its from the heat, not the food), blurred vision, cutting off all of your hair, throwing away several items of soiled clothing, a drastic change in personality, multiple unscheduled visits into just about every 7/11 to experience their below zero aironditioning, and the hair of what can only be described as neanderthal. If you have not experienced any of these then you clearly have a built in aircon or you are, very likely, the hybrid blend of Asian that I mentioned before.

I am now at a point in my life where I find myself having the following thoughts: 
"I really want to buy that dress, but that arm pit looks a little bit too close for comfort". 
"I really want Kylie to come with me to the market, but we don't have anymore vaseline to soothe his chaffing thighs".
"I wish I hadn't cut my fringe in that desperate moment of heat absurdity."
"I feel so bad about what I said earlier when I was melting".
"I really want to go to Chatuchak but I cant go by myself because I'm scared I will faint and no one will be there to help me."
"How bad can sweat stains really be in grey?"

How I usually look at work...

It's bad. Having said that, I do feel that my electricity bill at the end of the month is by far my best investment, as it all goes toward air conditioning. When I get home from work, panting, sweaty and dishevelled, I whip off all my clothes, turn on my air con and remain in the starfish position until it gets dark outside. From then on, I try and move as little as possible with exerting the least amount of energy. I then think to myself "Hey, this heat isn't so bad." On the way to work the following morning, drenched in my own perspiration, I quietly punish myself with "You were wrong again, you fool. Stupid, stupid fool."