S.R.Claridge writes Mystery and Romantic Suspense novels. Her work has been said to have the energy of Dan Brown, the mystery of Mary Higgins Clark and the humor of Janet Evanovich. Claridge novels will take you to the edge of your seat, keep you guessing until the very end and ultimately warm your heart. It is on the pages of every S.R.Claridge novel that Mystery and Sensual Suspense collide.

For more information on bookings, interviews and upcoming releases, please visit the author website and Facebook fan page.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Say NO to Bad-Ass B.O.

Walking through the grocery store this morning, I was suddenly overcome by an odor that was so strong it was palatable.  This stinky stench filled the store in a matter of moments.  The best way I can describe it is to say it smelled like a layer of body odor, covered with curry, layered in dry urine, swirled with something musky and sweet and then topped with more body odor.  It was the most bad-ass B.O. I’ve ever smelled!

People in the store grimaced and I, wearing a cotton wide-necked sweater, buried my nose in the neck of my shirt.  My eyes watered from the potency of the stench and, though I haven’t checked, I am certain my nose hairs were burned clean off. 

My first inclination was to think a homeless person may have wandered into the store for warmth or to use the restroom; and compassion tugged at me.  But then, I caught a glimpse of the odorous wonder and compassion left me.

It was a young woman, maybe in her early twenties.  I let my eyes run the course of her body from her feet to her head.  She was dressed in clothing that looked clean and pressed.  Her hands were manicured and her nails painted.  There was no dirt on her skin and she wore shiny lip gloss and gold earrings.  There was nothing that indicated that she might be homeless.  In fact, she appeared well groomed, as if she had showered this morning; though the stench spoke otherwise.  My eyes stopped on her hair, which hung in thick dreadlocks; thick, dried, clumpy dreadlocks. These weren't the nice looking, fashionable kind of dreadlocks.  These were muddy and mangy looking.   I shivered internally, imagining the amount of bacteria in each pasty lock and wondering when was the last time her whole head had been given a good, solid scrubbing.

As I passed by her, the odor triggered my gag reflex.  How could someone with such a pretty, clean face smell so horrible?  Upon returning from the store I could still smell it.  I was having a Seinfeld moment…the B.O. was like an entity that had latched onto me.  I threw my clothes into the washer and jumped into a hot shower. 

I’m now free of the stench but still curious as to how someone can smell that bad and not know it?  An even bigger question is why aren't her friends telling her that she stinks?!    Maybe we need a sign that says, "Just Say NO to Bad-Ass B.O."  So, when someone smells that bad you don't have to say anything, you just hand them the sign.  ~


1 comment:

  1. Fortunately or not, I have NO sense of smell. Why? No one knows/nose. Thanks for sharing, S.R.


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