汗 Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I get caught eating a carrot and sweating at my desk. I had just gotten to work and I just had to wear a grey top today with no camisole underneath. That's right, I schvitzed like a ho on the way to work and cursed myself the whole way because I knew by the time I arrived at the office I would have "sweated-through". I wasn't aware of how much damage I had done but going by how much my eyelids alone were sweating, I ever so casually swung my purse around so it was "kind of" covering any potential back sweat-through on my way to my desk, which felt more like walking through a mine field in which I had to dodge judgmental secretaries and Professionals and make sure no one got behind me.
Once situated I desperately wanted to go to the cafeteria for some juice or water but also wanted to wait for any sweat-through to dry-up so I munched on some baby carrots while I sorted through some work. Because I am turning into that girl in the movie who always gets caught at work at inappropriate times (mind you, these times would not be considered inappropriate in North America), one of the Professionals who is actually a super nice guy, sneaks up from behind wanting to explain some work I am about to do. I had a sneaking suspicion he was there when I heard him whisper "Geisha-san" but I had just popped a carrot in my mouth and was hoping it was my paranoid mind talking. "Geisha-san". A little louder this time and definitely not in my head. Shit. Sorry, I said, and frantically tried to decide whether to attempt swallowing the baby carrot whole, spit it out in my hand, or munch loudly on it while he talked. Luckily he decided to speak in Japanese which meant I could cover my mouth and keep most of my replies to Hai and Wakaremashita. Did I mention I LOVE Japanese at a moment like this? Unfortunately I decided to do absolutely nothing with the carrot but shove it to the side of my mouth when I grunted out my replies and I could feel it poking out my cheek. I even had time to let my mind wander and consider whether or not he would associate that with moving your fist in front of your mouth and sticking your tongue in your cheek to imitate a blow job. No? Probably just me.
After he left I scurried to the bathroom like a secret agent with my back pressed against the walls, really all I needed was to hold my hands up like a gun and whip them around every corner to complete the look. I experienced a feeling of absolute horror when I peered at my back in the mirror. We are not talking little rogue spots of sweat-through. We are talking full-out down the back, salaryman, someone threw a bucket of water at me from behind, sweat-through. Great. Whether or not the nice Professional associated my cheek carrot with blow jobs or not, he had witnessed my ultimate sweat-through to date this summer during his sneak up (I was obviously not sitting against the back of my chair in order to facilitate faster dry-up) as well as what probably looked like me stuffing my face (way to go Geisha, can't you wait until LUNCH?!).
Hey at least I've earned myself another cocktail at 57 tonight!