Well, it's officially summer in Japan. That means one word, humidity. Beads of sweat on your hairline, moisture in all your creases, T-shirt sticking to your chest.
But this year I'm feeling pretty good about it. And for one reason. I'm not embarrassed to sit around shirtless! It's hard for your t-shirt to stick to you when you don't have one on. I'm planning on spending the whole season topless, at least while I'm in my own apartment. Here's me as I type this post.
Before, it wasn't like I was so shy that I didn't want anyone to see me without a shirt. I would just get kind of disgusted by my gut after a few minutes and put something on so that I didn't have to think about it anymore. I'm sure pretty much all out of shape guys go through this.
I've always thought it was the most unfair thing in the world that guys can go shirtless but women can't. Take it off ladies!
But you want to know the worst thing about the humidity? I have a scar on my head that runs from my forehead to about halfway to the middle of my skull.
Normally it's no problem (except that it makes my hair messy) but when it gets humid, the scar swells up and becomes tender and painful to the touch. On the worst of days I can feel it throb with pain in time with my heartbeat. This is how I perform my famous slowing down and speeding up my heartbeat trick that you may have experienced if you know me personally.
How did I get the scar? When I was 12 I went to summer camp. One day we were hiking down to a swimming hole called Sliding Rock, for obvious reasons.
It had rained the night before, and the trail was a little slippery. I can't remember much, but I've been told that as I turned a corner on the path I slipped and fell right off the trail, down a ravine and cracked my noggin on a rock. I was sitting there by myself for a minute or two while the counselors tried to find a way down there. I had ended up propped up against a rock like I was lounging on a patio chair, with this hot fountain of blood shooting up into the air and down on me, and I kept saying to myself. "I've gotta get to Sliding Rock so I can rinse this red stuff off me."
A counselor finally got to me and he started carrying me back up, and I was like, "No, Sliding Rock is that way, you're going the wrong way! You're going the wrong way!" Ha ha. Good times, good times.
But there is a real message here. If you're dealing with someone who's had a head trauma, remember their brains are totally addled. Just ignore whatever they say and keep them awake.