So, I’ve like had two babies and cleaned endless amounts of poo and vomit off small humans and surface areas in the last 10 years. My gag reflex stopped working, or so I thought, about 8 years ago, until two days ago when I walked through the shopping centre to get the weekly groceries.
My breath caught in my throat so fast I had to look at who had just walked passed, because clearly I wasn’t paying attention, because little did I realise someone had just walked passed me that had to be coated in vomit and poo and also just returned from a six month living it rough in a camp site stint of National Geographic mud studies in Lake Eyre.
It was a man of about 24 in clean board shorts and singlet top.
Dude…. are you trying out the new pheromone concept instead of deodorant, because you know, like, we are in a first world country that has shops dedicated to smells that WORK.
Sometime ago, if you recall my blog Why people who stink and swear are cool, I think it’s just dawned on me on what the problem is…
This is twice now in the same shopping complex. Clearly, I need to find somewhere else to shop. So you see, it’s not my nose’s fault for being a finely tuned FFS HAVE A BATH mode it exists in.
It’s the shopping centre’s fault. Blame sorted 🙂
My struggle is:
HOW CAN SOMEONE BE OBLIVIOUS TO THE FACT THEY SMELL LIKE DEATH ROLLED UP IN A CARCASS THAT HAS BEEN LYING IN THE SUN FOR SEVEN DAYS BLOATING AND FORMING ENOUGH NOXIOUS GAS TO SUSTAIN A SMALL VILLAGE OF 3000?
What does one do, in society, when one doesn’t want to cause offense by stating the blatantly obvious, but again, allows the hideousness of someone’s body odour to pervade ever living atom of fresh air.
Really, what does one do?
Is that turning the other cheek thing required?
Is the going straight to compassion because the stinker is unaware of the quantity of stinkees because somewhere the smell has put the stinkers senses into a state of nescience?
Do you say something?
Do you gag, grab your shirt to your mouth breathing as shallowly as possible through a clutch of fabric, glare, grab your family chicken and snatch the trolley in the other direction driving it with your knees so you don’t have to let go of your shirt least you aren’t far enough away and a little gag noise comes out again. Because, you know, once gagging starts, that’s just as bad as the yawn and the chain reaction that goes with that.
Did you just yawn? I did.