Let’s talk sweat. The sweltering peninsula that is our 718.3 km² piece of home (I checked), provides us with a common platform of solidarity. If there is one thing we can all say as one united people, it is, “Today damn hot sia.” The unforgiving sunlight, mixed with the suffocating humidity, is the perfect formula for a heat that, I think, is laced with murderous intent.

There are a few among us that, for one reason or another (I personally say witchcraft), do not seem to be bothered by the heat. They are the ones who can wear a perfectly plain, coloured shirt, walk out in the searing urban wasteland, and remain perfectly dry wherever they go. Us humans, on the other hand, might regularly Google “best antiperspirants”, only to go to the store and subsequently realise that there is no commercial body maintenance product to inhibit sweat with the intensity of an army. This is all exacerbated by the cruel sultriness that our beautiful metropolis is blessed with.

There is something malevolent about this heat for how much it can do in so little time. Imagine being dressed to impress and the first thing that hits you as you step out of the house being a heat wave I  like to call regret. We all know where it starts; the face, but a little tissue paper can fix that. Where it really starts is the back. You feel every tiny pore blooming like a bud, with beads of sweat throughout your entire back. They slide down your back like the finger of a lover non-existent.  And in an effort to avoid fabric-sweat contact, you arch your back inwards to increase breathing room (only works for loose clothing, if you are in a tight shirt, there is no God out there that can help you).

“This can work,” you might think and then, you feel it, the sweat has spread to the front. So you shrink back inwards, trying to maintain distance between two air pockets in the front and back, balancing on a precipice between victory and sweat stains, with all this happening at least ten minutes from any form of air-conditioning.

Now, for most people, this is the extent of your worries. However, there is something that few people out there will ever have the displeasure of experiencing. Pit stains. I am not talking about the small dots some of you might get. These are the giant, darkened patches underneath your armpits that can only be hidden with conscious pit clenching and avoided with (in)conspicuous tissue dabbing. If you are stuck in a crowded train or bus, refer up for reference of God in the parenthesis.

They are the real killers of one’s public image and is life telling you, “Bro, I’m sorry but sacrifices have to be made.” Figuring out who we are lies in the clothes we wear. Black, navy blue and white make up the majority of our wardrobe. Plaid shirts are also amazing in hiding them. So next time, if you think you are having a bad day, think about us, the ones who took a bullet on God’s assembly line, for the sake of many.

Singapore is a beautiful city and I know that despite this truly ungodly heat, I am fortunate to be here but there are days that I wish we had the crisp, cooling air of the Japanese countryside. I often joke about determining my vote for future General Elections on who can make it colder but I am just another sweat stain incident away from being serious.