What's That Smell?

While I could probably fill volumes with embarrassing moments at my age, we all have that one that happens to us early in our lives that sticks with us forever. For me, this event occurred when I was fifteen years old, and still makes me cringe myself inside out remembering it to this day. So why not put it in a public forum?

I grew up as a competitive figure skater, and I skated pairs for most of my career. When I was fifteen, I was skating with a boy named Joe. Obviously, I changed his name, because he didn’t ask to be involved in the most embarrassing moment of my life even if it is hilarious.

Joe and I lived in two different states about ninety minutes away from each other, and our parents took turns shuttling us back and forth to practices. When school let out for the summer, I was shipped off to Joe’s state to live with him and his family for a couple of weeks.

Now, it’s important for me to add that Joe was a year older than me and had his own car already. I may or may not have been seriously crushing on him. Looking back, Joe didn’t have many redeeming qualities, and he was kind of a jerk, but hormones and relative proximity made him seem like a good idea at the time. So the chance to have his undivided attention for two weeks was very exciting for me.

It was one of the hottest summers on record that year, and I am a person who sweats a lot. I was perspiring so profusely, Joe would make huge scenes about how sweaty my back would get when we were practicing and dramatically wrap paper towels around his hands before touching me again.

So naturally, being a sensitive teenage girl, I developed a complex about this. My skates were also gross and could get stinky. I became aware of this when we got into Joe’s car to head to practice my second day there, and we were hit in the face with the smell of my skates that had been baking in their fragrant juices in his car all night. Think rotten feet with the powdery smell of odo-ban spray if you want to experience this with me.

I have almost died typing that out. Now I have to go faint in a swamp.

Naturally, Joe, having the flair for drama he did, made a big deal about the smell of the car, and had to tell everyone at the rink that I was a big bucket of sweaty garbage sludge, even adding that his grandmother had to wash and hang my practice dresses on the line everyday after practice so they wouldn't walk themselves out the door. My skates were to never be left in his car again. They were to be housed in the garage with the rest of the trash.

Why did I change this guy’s name again?

Well, on day two, I also realized I had forgotten to pack deodorant. Now that I had been given a complex about what a sweat weasel I was, this was something I could not go without. However, Joe’s disgust for my horrific condition made me terrified of revealing this to anyone. So in my fifteen year old mind, I decided to work with what I had…

The odo-ban spray for my skates.

It burned and gave me a rash, but it did the job, and is probably the reason I see sounds now. I felt like a genius, because after practice Joe asked me if I wanted to go see a movie with him that night. I was ecstatic! My odds of starting Sophomore year with a boyfriend were looking good, people!

I got all dolled up even though the heat was nearing triple digits, and made sure to douse myself with my trusty odo-ban spray. I might melt like a wax candle in the parking lot, but I was not going to sweat. No sir. I was going to show Joe that I was not some kind of perspiration goblin. I was girlfriend material.

After the movie, he wanted to drive me around his town and show me the sites. So naturally, I got those butterflies that come with those first moments, and with those butterflies came...you guessed it… anxiety sweat. If you’ve ever had anxiety sweat hit you, there’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing stops it, and apparently it activates that medicinal powdery smell of odo-ban.

As we were about to have our moment looking out on Lake Michigan there in Joe’s car, he wrinkled his nose and made a face.

WHAT IS THAT SMELL, DID YOU LEAVE YOUR SKATES IN MY CAR AGAIN?!

If a swarm of seagulls had descended upon us and lifted me out over the lake and dropped me to my death, it would have been a mercy. For I had no way out of this other than to say my skates were in the back; or confess that I had sprayed my whole body with a likely carcinogen to avoid an embarrassing moment such as this.

I went for honesty because I was gloriously stupid.

“I forgot my deodorant, so I used my foot spray instead,” I confessed.

He looked at me like I had just committed an orphan sacrifice right there in the front seat of his car. It was a perfect combination of horror and disgust. Why wouldn’t Joe use this exact moment of my death as an opportunity to flail around in the dramatic fashion he so loved?

“That is absolutely disgusting,” he said turning on the engine and driving us home. Goodbye romantic moment. Hello life defining embarrassing moment.

Almost three decades later, I can laugh about it because it really is funny. I can also say Joe is an absolute jerk, and I wonder if he’s still as dramatic now as he was then. I have also never forgotten to pack deodorant again.