Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Essays on Sweat(s) I: Meat Sweats

I sweat. I sweat copiously. Outside of vigorous physical activity, there seems to be little rhyme or reason as to why I sweat so profusely. Math exams used to trigger it, but thankfully I no longer am subjected to that numerical torture. I have begun to notice, however, some distinctly different types of sweat that are distinct.
The "Meat Sweats" can be explained simply enough. After digesting food, your body needs to burn it off. This process creates heat, which leads to perspiration. This is not a nutritional exploration, as my pedestrian explanation may have conveyed. Instead, this a moistened and gamy analysis of this man's experience with "meat sweats."
It started Thursday evening. I prepared a hearty meal of corned beef hash and eggs. It pains to me admit that the corn beef hash was not made from scratch, but instead came from a can. In essence, I found myself cooking human dog food. I cooked the meat and adorned it with two eggs, over-easy. The dish, heavily garnished with pepper, tasted well enough. However, half-way through the meal I noticed salty polyps blossoming on my face and chest. I felt very Cro-magnon as I stooped over my meat and shoveling it greedily into my face.
The meat sweats are unique in that they are noticeably warm. Your body's temperature escalates a few very noticeable degrees. The meat sweats feel like bathing in bathtub filled with tepid beef broth. One feels unsettled and gross. I remember sitting in my favorite blue chair--the Thinking Chair--squirming uneasily in the warm wake of the my meaty meal. My stomach hung heavily over the waistband of my trousers and felt like a gym bag filled with bags of instant concrete. Pain was not present, but my limbs jangled with subtle, culinary discomfort. I sweltered on like this for some time.
I think there is a positive takeaway from that moist and unsettling experience we know as the "meat sweats." It serves, I think, as a sort of culinary symptom of guilt. The meat sweats are a good biological reminder that perhaps we have committed the greasiest of the Seven Deadly Sins: gluttony. So the next time you are squirming in clammy, salty discomfort following the consumption of a 56 ounce steak, remember that moderation is best in all things, especially meat.

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