Can you hear my skin?!

There are days when my skin is not a surface but a sound system. It creaks, scrapes, whispers, protests. It announces itself before I do. I don’t walk into a room so much as arrive with background noise. This is not poetic exaggeration; it is an acoustical reality. My skin has opinions about weather, neglect, soap, and time. It expresses them audibly. When people talk about listening to their body, I assume they mean metaphorically. In my case, the instruction feels literal. You don’t need mindfulness to notice when your face sounds like it’s being opened against its will. You just need a quiet room and a mirror that reflects both the damage and the shame. Dry skin does not suffer silently. It documents its suffering with sound.

Wet Confessions: No one must sweat like me!!

Why some people sweat more than others? Some Obsessively!

Yeah, this is not something I would like to boast about. It is something that has haunted my daily life for the last decade. What am I babbling about? I am talking about sweating - not too much of it, not the lack of it, not its regularity but only its copious, unending love for me. I tend to sweat from most places humans do and then, there are some more, now-researched surface areas from where my sweat profusely drains out my energy. This includes the area surrounding the nose, behind my ears and even my forearms!