I had an important meeting to attend when I realized that I had forgotten to wear deodorant. It’s not that I was harboring rancid day old fish reek in the delicate corners of my skin, but I’m pretty neurotic about body odors so when I’m not emanating a cloud of cloying perfume, I worry that once people get a whiff, they’ll cup their hands over their mouths the way people do right before they rolf something wicked. (That image? You can thank me later.)
And since I had no lotion or perfume at my disposal, I rifled through all the office supplies I had on my desk to MacGuyer my way into mid-afternoon freshness. I work in an open space where using all the fruity-smelling highlighters to emphasize my pits might look crazy, so I rubbed some Purell on my fingers and discreetly dabbed on my skin. Only on one pit though, just to test it out. Safety first!
Here’s something about hand sanitizer: it is not deodorant! It smells like rubbing alcohol! But the good news that it gives you an instant cool breeze. Like you’re on a tropical island! I’m going to sing Billy Ocean’s Carribean Queen the next time I get to my desk or I’m going to laugh thinking about that and my coworker will ask me what’s so funny because sometimes I do say some funny things at work that have nothing to do with body odor. (You should hear my political stand-up. It puts any pundit to shame. I’ll show you William F. Buckley! What’s that? He’s dead? Well, I’ll show you William F. Buckley…later.)
And I’m sure you’re just dying to know how I rescued myself from that situation. The ladies restroom had a can of lemon-scented lysol spray and spritzed it on my shirt. It’s like what they say, “When life gives you lemons, or lemon-scented aerosol.”
I don’t have a poignant way to end this TMI post other than to share that I saw my friend Kim and her new baby this weekend. That newborn smells so delicious, I wish my nostrils could be as big as my fists put together so I could inhale all that baby goodness.