Oh Yeah, no Sweating Means Severe Dehydration.

I had to wait a few days to fully recover before I wrote this. We had our last day of English Club the other day. The children made this cute drawing of me. And the fact that they've mastered the imitation of my hair flip is adorable.




I have been the type of person who always seems to need a lot of water, and here is no exception. In Morocco, I have been drinking in between 6 and 8 liters a day. Of course, due to a stomach parasite that makes more comebacks than Madonna, I don't get the full effects of it. Case in point: on the last day, I decided to skip lunch because another side effect of the Madonna parasite is diarrhea. I asked the guy in charge of the youth center if I could just stay there during lunch. He locks the gates while he goes to lunch, which doesn't make much sense because I couldn't help but notice that the brick wall in the back of the youth center was about three feet tall. He agreed, but only after much pleading of me to go with him. The conversation went like this.

"Are you sure you want to be here alone?"
"Yes, I like being by myself. I need to rest."
"By yourself?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"...Yes."
"Without anybody here?"
"Yes."
"You know, I live very close and I have family here."
"That's nice. I live twenty minutes away and my family's in America."
"Why don't you come over?"
"Because that would mean I have to be near people and wouldn't be able to rest. I just want to rest right here on the bench beneath the tree."
"by yourself?"
"Yes."
Alone?"
"Is there an Arabic word for deja-vu?"
"We could feed you."
"I'm not hungry."
"But I live very close to here."
"If it's a problem, then I'll leave and come back."
"No, it's no problem. I just want to rest."
"By yourself?"

I know he was being nice, because that's the thing to do here. The Moroccans really want me to be as comfortable as possible, even to the point of inviting strangers into their house for tea, and then dinner, and then sleep. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the Moroccans that I have met are as afraid of being alone as vampires are of sunlight or werewolves are of silver or Americans are of reading books or of Universal Health Care. Nevertheless, I succeeded in having the youth center to myself. While there, I took some pretty pictures.







After a little while, however, I began to notice something. My back wasn't it's usual slimy self. My shirt didn't stick to the small of my back, and my pants didn't stick to the back of my knees. Granted, this made me feel much less disgusting, I should have recognized this as a peculiar occurrence. Thinking not much of it, but knowing I was thirsty, I asked one of the other volunteers to get me a bottle of water when they got back, because they always get back before the guy in charge does. I thought that would make me better.

Later, I begin to notice that I'm still not sweating, and I'm getting a little nauseous. The other volunteers let me go home. As I'm walking through the town, I see a sign on the bank that says 38+ degrees C, which means it was somewhere in between 100 and 102 F. I reach into my pocket to grab some change for the bus, and the change actually burns my fingers. By this time, I'm already beginning to lose the ability to speak. I simply say the name of my city.

I finally get back, and by this time, the water that I bought has been long empty. I gather the strength to ask if the driver can take me closer to my house because where they usually drop me off is one side of the town and I live on the opposite side. I get off and finally begin the walk to my house. Even though I was going downhill, I still had to stop every few feet to catch my breath or regain my balance. By this time, I have nausea, dizziness, sticky mouth, and still the no sweating. There was also a feeling like my brain was cooking. When I reach my house, it takes all of my strength to unlock the iron door. I fall into the house and stumble to my bedroom and fall to the floor.

As I am slowly removing the contacts of my pockets and my necklace, I realize that there may be a serious problem, so I drag myself to the kitchen and pull out a bottle of water that I keep in the fridge. I tried to drink it slowly, but I never realized how difficult it is to drink slowly when my water supply is severely depleted. To compensate I move the bottle around my arms and neck to try to feel some of the coldness on me. After a few hours of lying next to the fridge and pulling out bottle after bottle of water, I finally get the strength to stand. But it felt like I had a migraine, so I couldn't walk quickly. After I get to my room, I fall onto my bed and sort of fall asleep. But then guess who decides to stage another comeback?

So what would I say that I have learned from this experience? Well, ladies, are you tired of those embarrassing sweat stains around your underarms? Gentlemen, are you tired of having to sit in a chair with the back of your shoulders and the small of your back pooling in sweat? Well, look no further; with my easy to follow No Water diet, you, too, can experience the easy going lifestyle of the Hollywood elites without any harsh chemicals on your body. The No Water diet*, when combined with my exclusive Giardia Diet*, can really help shave off those last few pesky pounds. We're just in time for swimsuit season ladies, so get rid of those thick thighs. And men, women really can't resist a man with no beer gut or love handles; this will get rid of practically all fat without any effort at all. It's time to discover the real you - the beautiful you - the you that you deserve to be.

*Warning: the No Water diet and the Giardia diet are, in fact, life threatening and to follow the advice of someone as obviously insane as the author of this blog is unwise and will result in a slap in the face with a herring by the Knights who say Ni.