Lee Suckling: The bodily function we need to stop being embarrassed about

The misconception is that others will think we don't have full control of our bodily functions. Photo / Getty Images

I don't tend to sweat under the armpits when I'm hot. I only really sweat there when I'm nervous.

I've found myself with sweat patches in my shirt a couple of times recently. Once so obvious I changed the shirt. Another time I took off my t-shirt in a bar's restroom and used the hand-dryer to rid its wetness. I was mortified both times, especially because it's winter and I clearly can't blame the heat anyway.

Now I've started to ask myself why.

Sweat patches are embarrassing but we never really analyse the reason they make us feel ashamed. When we have them ourselves, we feel self-conscious until they dry up. When we see them on others, they are immediately noticeable – rather than the cliché that something "sticks out like a sore thumb" we should really be saying something "sticks out like a sweaty armpit".

Everybody sweats. We just like to pretend we're not human sometimes, and that our bodies don't work the way biology intends. Being embarrassed about sweat patches is akin to farting or bowel movements – things everybody does, but for some reason we all pretend we don't.

Like passing wind, I think the internal shame about sweaty arm pits comes from the misconception that others will think we don't have full control of our bodily functions. As if it's incontinence of the upper half. Something we need to wear some sort of absorbing nappy to take care of.

I actually discovered sweat patch pads in a pharmacy this week. You affix them to the inside of your shirt as per sanitary napkins and they soak up everything so there's no leakage. This actually isn't a new idea: when in journalism school I learned that TV broadcasters will sometimes use actual menstrual pads underneath their button-downs to prevent their audience seeing sweat stains; something understandable given the nerve-wracking, high-adrenaline environment of presenting live.

There's nothing sexy about wet armpits, even if they have no scent (and your deodorant is actually doing it's job). This is because we associate sweat with stench, which is to imply someone is unclean, which is to say they are "less than" other people. It's all bollocks, but it is how society has conditioned us.

The irony of all this is the fact we admire sweat-drenched athletes and jocks, especially male ones. If you see somebody dripping on a rugby field or soaking through their shirt in a gym, you think highly of them. They are clearly working hard. They are utilising their testosterone; exerting it to its full extent of manliness.

I don't know about you, but I avoid grey marle t-shirts at all costs. It's a shame because I really like the way they look, but I'm too scared to wear them outside the house. There's no hiding in grey marle – the smallest underarm wet patch is not only highly-visible but anxiety-enducing on its own. It's no wonder they call the classic cotton grey pullover a "sweatshirt".

Then, too, there's the fact that sweat patches can actually stain your shirts when mixed with the chemicals in deodorant/antiperspirant. Yellow stains are left behind on otherwise pristine white tees and we're forced to soak them in one of those oxidising powders so nobody ever sees.

I wish I could come to the conclusion that sweat patches don't matter, and beg us all to reclaim them with pride. But I can't. I still don't like them. I understand why people actually get botox in their armpits to prevent them.

So what can we do? Well, unless you're going to buy those absorbent pads, or buy an over-the-counter high aluminium roll-on that blocks yours glands (and stings like hell), there's nothing we can do.

Accept that people get sweat patches, I suppose. While they are embarrassing, they are very temporary and – if you don't lift up your arms – easy enough to conceal if you're conscientious.