"Janna, can you pick up some deodorant at the store for me?" my husband asked as I walked out the back door on my way to the market. "Sure," I called back.
I picked up one and popped off the lid. No, too musty. Then another. No, too sporty. Another. Too spicy. And then. Ahhhhh! When you read “Ahhhhh,” sing it in your mind and visualize one of the store lights beaming down upon it. I stood there in the aisle of endless body odor solutions, my eyes closed, tightly gripping the deodorant stick and pushing it as close to my nostrils as I could get it without it actually touching my nose. I breathed it in with one deep, swelling breathe, as if I were smelling a bouquet of roses. Mmmm. Would it be weird if I licked it?
Why would I even need or want a boyfriend? I was kind of attracted to myself.
But do you know what I found out? Men are supposed to wear men smells and women are supposed to wear women smells. Because they entice each other. It confuses the sexes when someone goes against the system set up.
Like a greyhound trying to find the source of a smell, his head started to turn my way. He was sitting very close to me, so it was awkward when I turned my head only to find our faces within inches of one another. We were looking into each other’s eyes, and I became concerned. My eyeballs began to swell the size of two eggs. His sniffer was about to find the source of the smell in question. Can he smell me? Then, his eyes shifted downward to my arm pit, and with one last sniff, he found the source. He looked confused, and I knew what he was thinking; it was obvious: How am I smelling a man when I should be smelling a woman? I quickly pulled my arms back down against my body to diminish any lingering aroma. I turned my head and attempted to secretly blow the smell away while hiding behind a curtain of hair.