2006-01-11

Smelly Girl

Something at my desk smells and I have a very bad feeling that it might be me.
Logic, you know?

Unfortunately, I have yet to id the location of the offending odor. It could be my shoes, which are hideously old. It could also be my armpits because after awhile, any deo stops working on the b.o. and I have to switch things around to trick my ever-so-delicate "sensitive skin".
You know, me and my effing skin.
It's like those nerds who constantly reference their intolerance of lactose.
Who cares?
I don't need to know why you are in the unfortunate position of not being able to go to Baskin Robbins (TM) and eat a two-scoop sundae in 4 minutes, like me.

My problem is an unidentified noxiousness that unfortunately seems to be coming from me. Now, here's the thing that's freaking me out... I am a little obsessed with hygiene. I can't NOT shave every day because hairy legs make me feel barbaric and dirty, even though I cruise with a gang of yoga hippies. Go ahead and make any assumptions you want to and I wonít confirm or deny any of them (vegans are gassy!) I've devoted so much of my life to hair removal that there was talk of an intervention last year.
Now I just use some secret methods that affect a long-term smoothness to some of the hairs that give away my Eastern European heritage.

I also shower compulsively. I shower before I go to the gym or to the pool, because I like the way clean sweat smells. In the summertime, I easily shower three times a day - once in the morning, once when I get home from work because seriously? In Southern Arizona? You can totally get a work-out walking from your car to your house during the after-work hours when it's so hot that your fingerprints will be permanently distorted from the third-degre burning that you get if you stupidly touch any metal object, like say your car door, without an oven mitt.
The final shower comes before you go to bed and it is just implied that you shower before bed if you live in Tucson in August. By nighty-night time, you've been sitting around in your cotton underwear for a few hours, wishing that you were not so prone to being a fat-ass so that you could shove your head into a bucket of Baskin Robbins (TM) ice cream and just root around in it until you get a break from all the sweating.
But since you ARE kind of chubby you do have to watch it and so there's no bucket of frozen love. You're also poor, so there's no air conditioner.
There's a swamp cooler.
The name alone implies that you're not going to feel all that fresh after spending the evening hours being "cooled" by the magic of 18th century technology.

But right now, it's January and heat isn't an issue thereby sweating isn't the problem regarding the Mystery Funk.
Wow, a sidenote applies: I miss summer! Oh well Ė by next month, it should be cool to start laying out again.
That right suckers!!!!
February and I will be in the pool.
Outside.
Getting tan.
Smiley, smiley thinking of youÖ
Not.
Eat it Ė I earn February and March with every August and September that I am in Tucson, as I live and breathe, I EARN it.

It's possible that it's not me and it's like a food item or something. I have admitted to sometimes finding food that Iíve hidden in my pockets, weeks after the hiding must have happened.
It's not like I would be surprised if there was a Healthy Choice meal stashed behind my computer tower.

The other thing I thought of is Silent Gas. Some people are farty and others are not. Iím not about to tell you where I fall on the spectrum but Iíll tell you what everyone has and thatís Silent Gas. You donít even know your own flatulence while itís happening.
Could I be a victim of this medical phenomenon today?
Damn I hope not because what do you do? Normally when Iíve been in the company of Silent Gas sufferers, they just kind of shrug it off and I kind slide my eyes over for a look when they think Iím not looking so that I can try to catch them with a contented ďI just fartedĒ smile. When I never see the look of relaxation, I just assume that they have Silent Gas and I roll down the window, or move away a little bit or whatever it takes to put some distance between us.

What if I have Silent Gas?

My mom taught me that if you can smell yourself, even if you smell like pretty, pretty perfume, then thatís not good.

Unfortunately, I am in violation of my lessons today and so I am going to sit tight and try not to move around too much. I feel like itís possible that if I release any fumes into the atmosphere, I might be contributing to the problems with the ozone in a very direct manner.

Sigh.
Letís just hope itís a food item that I stashed somewhere and forgot aboutÖ I would really hate to be the smelly girl who sits across the aisle from her boss.


GREAT NEWS!

Just after I posted this, my team lead came over.
"Okay. WHAT is that smell?" The woman in the cube next to me announced that it might be her breath.
Meanwhile, while she's sniffing around at each of us, I am over here shaking violently and totally believing that I am creating MORE of what I have decided are fear pheromones. By the time she got to my desk, I was pretty sure that the smell of death was wafting off of me and if you've never smelled the smell of death... it's... really gross.

"No, it's not your breath - I smelled it when I came in from lunch. It's not a PERSON smell."

OH THANK GOD! And I am rejoycing like I just got saved... which I did, I guess, in a way and I'm pumping my victorious fists in the air, you know? Like inappropriately for the situation?
But dudes, you would hoot and hollar too, if you finally had the sweet confirmation that the vile odor you've been smelling all afternoon is decidedly NOT YOU.

arizonasarah at 12:36 p.m.

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