Not wearing deodorant!
Having a body too often means negotiating the terms of what that body is, and mine has always been sweaty. Even on a winter day, I can start schvitzing with even just the slightest amount of exercise; a brisk walk is all it takes. Over the years, the extent to which I've excessively sweated has varied, though at its peak I combatted it with some seriously harsh medical-grade antiperspirant that stung like hell when I put it on and sometimes irritated my skin so badly it hurt to wear shirt. But my armpits were bone dry and this, to me, was worth anything.
So, even into adulthood, I have labored under the belief that my body is too something—I've stood in the grocery store with a Tom's deodorant in my hands many times, wishing the aluminum-free world was for me, and yet I never could do it. It'd never stop me from being sweaty, which is what I am.
NOT WEARING DEODORANT has been largely a mistake. The tiny travel deodorant I carried in my bike commuter bag ran out, and every morning when I'm getting dressed in the women's shower room, I remember, shit, right, gotta get a new deodorant.
This lapse has led to something of a revelation: I am tolerably sweaty. Even in this, the armpit of summer, I've managed to go deodorant-free with no obvious repercussions. Maybe my body is different, or maybe I've learned to live in it better. This experiment might not last, but I feel like I learned something here.