This morning I took Meredith to the pediatric ophthalmologist, and that’s a really difficult word to spell. Since we were able to stop patching back in 2011, we see the ophthalmologist only once each year, and every visit is a bit of an adventure—mainly because he shares his office with six other doctors, none of whom are ophthalmologists. This morning the office was full of adults and tiny people and we didn’t have many chair choices. I went with the fabric chair next to the sweaty man and his cranky wife so that my kids could sit next to each other by the television.
I won’t go into Sweaty Man’s family details because I signed a HIPAA form many years ago, and the last thing I need right now is a police car hauling me off to God knows where simply because I’m not following a rule that appeared somewhere in the fine print of that form. (I was pulled over two weeks ago today because although my license plate sticker is on the license plate, it’s actually in the wrong place. I hate the fact that I’m driving around potentially creating work for police officers, but with that said, it really *did* seem that this particular university officer didn’t have much else going on. (I freaked out a little when he turned his lights on, and to get off the road I chose to pull the wrong way onto a one way street—giving him a bonus ticketing opportunity. Thank God I didn’t have beer in the car, or I probably would have cracked one open before telling him about the dead guy in my trunk who I just prostituted and murdered (in that order, obviously), if “prostituted” can be considered a verb. I’m breaking Every Single Rule over here.))
Anyway. The sweaty man was sweaty (as they say), and as the perspiration dripped from his face, I noticed that he began smelling more and more like cigarettes. It was the most disgusting yet fascinating thing I’ve smelled/seen in years. This guy has smoked so many cigarettes that he has actually BECOME a cigarette. Because the doctor was running late, I was given the opportunity to sit and wonder what has gone into my mouth more than anything else in the past few years. The answer? Delhi’s Chaat! Have I eaten so much of it that it drips from my temples after a run? Sadly, no. My sweaty self smells more like salty lavender disappointment, thanks to Tom’s of Maine.
(The guy running behind me in this photo actually caught up with me five seconds after the photo was taken. He begged me to lower my arms because although my scent was oddly soothing, he found that it was also leaving him feeling very disappointed. I just nodded and whispered, “What you are smelling is my truth.”)
What do I smell like right now? Bath and Body Works Sensual Body Wash and Lotion. (The Jasmine Vanilla scent. Don’t even try to talk me into the Black Currant Vanilla scent. I Will Not Have It.)
Talk to me about your smell. (I hope I’m not weirding you out right now. Wait. Do you hear that siren?!) I once told a friend of mine that without any lotion or deodorant, I sort of smell like toast. She smelled my arm and agreed. Jeff recently told me that people don’t really know themselves as well as they think and that it’s too easy to make your world smaller just because you believe you know your own limitations, when in actuality, you should be challenging yourself to break down those perceived walls. All I know is this: A not-sweaty me smells like toast, but after a shower? Sensual Toast.
All of this to say, if I ever need a stage name? Sensual Toast it is. Enjoy your weekend. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
I had heard that fenugreek helped with milk production, so when I was nursing I started taking it – a LOT of it because that’s the dose that was recommended. When I finally stopped and my husband was so relieved – he told me I smelled like #26 on the Indian menu. yeahhh.
I don’t smell unless I ———-
I smell like macadamia nuts. Roasted but not salted. Yep.
Today I smell like sunscreen, fake coconut shampoo and dial soap. Possibly BO too since it’s a a bajillion degrees here in and I sweat. Oh, and sweaty little boy since I just finished my part in getting the kids to sleep.
Sensual Toast is the best stage name of ALL TIME. Indisputable.
Estee Lauder Green Tea or Chanel No.5 on most days. (work days)
Herbaria soap on all the rest. I love that place.
I smell like Prince Charles on vacation in Fiji…
(Fiji deodorant and Nomad cologne)
I am very sensitive to musk/incense type odors. Super headache trigger. I love vanilla but can’t do any vanilla scented stuff except Victoria’s Secret plain old Vanilla lace, which just smells like extract. Maybe I should just wear baking ingredients and rub dryer sheets on my neck (since laundry is my other favorite scent).
I smell like Bath & Body Works’s “Forever Sunshine” because I rec’d it in a gift bag at a baby shower (?!?!) and fell head over heels. It has staying power and makes me smell vaguely of toasted marshmallow minus the eye-watering campfire (which I love twice a year but not every day), aka of meringue.
I have, as you can imagine, many scents, but I usually don’t smell.
When K works a lot of days in an office he smells like paper.
I know the smells (not BO) of each of my boys, and I swear, in the pool, when I was a kid, my dad smelled like ketchup.
But why is your arm green?
To answer your question, I smell like vinegar (don’t know why) plain white Dial soap after a shower, and Shalimar (vanilla-y) shortly thereafter. Our sheets, towels, and clothes smell like Downy Lavender – I LOVE it.
I’m sure you wrote more after that picture of chaat but I’m not sure what it was. Mmmmmmm. I want chaat.
this must be be the weirdest post/weirdest comments series of all time.
But I like it.
I was expecting an ophthalmologist story not a smell story.
(Nivea soft body cream right now)
Ckin2u but I wish I could have a cool stage name like Sensual Toast – I might have to steal that someday when I am out kareokeing (is that even a word?)
A bizzare side note our mathlete team name was the krispy frogs – everyone else’s was always there high school’s name and a number – dub PS this is just one of the many reasons why I am not going to my 25th high school reunion – I played flute -we SO would have been BFFs!
My ex once described me as “The most unscented person on earth.”
I love the name!
I don’t know what I smell like. I just smelled my arm and it smells clean. Like some sort of bar soap, but I don’t use bar soap. The New guy walked into my house the other day and said “I like the way your place smells.”. I thought that was odd because I don’t know what my house smells like either.
On a related olfactory note, I used to really like vanilla or baked goods scented candles. In the last six months, I’ve switched to fresh/laundry detergent scented candles for no other reason than “sweet” candles were making me constantly crave chocolate chip cookies.
I have two on-topic sweat stories (I have many more off-topic I’ll save for another day).
1) The Monday after Easter one year I was at boot camp and felt very sticky halfway through. I realized I was sweating out all of the sugar from the candy gluttony the day before.
2) Often, like at least once a month, I sweat on a morning workout or run and smell my hazelnut coffee/creamer. It’s not that bad. But does make me rethink my coffee habit.
I just smelled myself. I don’t really smell anything except a little leftover chlorine from the pool. Maybe that’s covering up my true smell. When I get out of the shower, I smell like Skin So Soft. I’ve loved it since I was a child.
My son’s breath smells like corn on the cob. Always. And not just after he eats it. And not just corn. Corn on the cob. Yes. There is a difference.