Arm Pit Candy

As Brian leaned in to kiss me hello after a long day of work, I caught a whiff of SOMEthing just AWFUL! A sickeningly sweet, thick odor surrounded me in a  green cloud of nastiness.  "Oh my GOD what IS that?!" I said in my 'I'm gonna die if that smell enters my nostrils and attaches itself to my brain' voice (aka 'stuffed up nose' voice).
"What? I don't smell anything."
I shrugged and stirred the spaghetti I was preparing for dinner. I didn't smell the offending odor again until he hugged me and thanked me for a yummy dinner during our post-meal clean up. ( I know, RIGHT?! He's too good for words!) To Brian's sweet, and satisfied thanks I responded, "UGH GET AWAY FROM ME!!" I covered my mouth and nose with my hands.  "YOU SMELL LIKE LIKE- LIKE A CAN OF RED BULL THATS GONE SKUNKY!! GOOD LOORRRD WHAT IS THAT?!

He chuckled like a rotten kid and said he didn't smell anything.
"Well, I didn't either," I said from behind by garlic and tomato scented hands "until you just hugged me. OH! And when you first got home. UGH!! WHY DO YOU SMELL LIKE OLD LADY CANDY?! Oh GOD, YOU'RE DISGUUUSTING!!'

Before y'all lay into me about being overly dramatic (who? ME!? NEVAH!!!) keep in mind that I am super-sensitve to smells and just about ANY and EVERYthing can ignite a migraine and lay me out for two or three days. So my outrageous reaction to Brian's odd and offending scent of choice is MORE than warranted.

Brian just shrugged and said that what I might be smelling might be his NEW deodorant.
"WHAT?! WHAT 'NEW' DEODORANT?!? I DIDN'T APPROVE ANY 'NEW' DEODORANT! YOU KNOW ALL HOUSEHOLD AND BODY SCENTS HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME FIRST!" Again, before you label me a crazy, controlling bitch please re-read the above paragraph re: smells and headaches. I'll wait...

Done? Great. Let's move on.

"How about if I change my shirt?" Brian offered sweetly.
I agreed that that MIGHT help.

After the undershirt chagne, I didn't smell that god-awful odor anymore, but he was on the couch and I was across our small tv room lounging on the recliner so I wasn't close enough, either. UNTIL BEDTIME. As I went to snuggle him I found myself embattled in  an unrelenting onslaught  attack upon my olfactory senses.

"Brian!!" I flailed and thrashed my way out from under the covers and out of bed. Once again I covered my nose and mouth. "GO WASH YOUR STINKY PITS!!'

This grown up 40 year old man I call 'mine all mine'  once again giggled like an 8 year old  boy who had farted but blamed it on his lil sister. "I DID wash em!" he protested through his rotten giggles.

"No way!! You washed those stinky pits with SOAP?!"
"Well, I mean... I RINSED em. With water."
'WATER?!" I cried, outraged. "Is that deodorant also an antipersperant?!" I demanded.
"Uhhhhhhhh. yeah?"
"THEN IT IS WATERPROOF, BRIIII-YUUUNNNNN-NUH!!!"
HE argued that nuh-uhh it was NOT waterproof.
"Oh no? Well answer me THIS; what IS sweat? ? Is it not water that comes out of your body?! AND IS THAT STINKY, SMELLY RANCID HALLOWEEN CANDY SCENTED STUFF THAT IS ABSOULTELY WAFTING OUT FROM UNDER YOUR ARMS STILL ON SAID BODY??!! Yes, Brian. Yes. It. Is. And do you know why?! "Because IT IS WATERPROOF!"

"FINE!" He relented. "I'll go wash it off!! For real!"
I followed him AND supervised. He was laughing at my Drema Death Stare and the fact that I was sitting on a toliet lid watching him wash his arm pits at 11:30 at night. "Well! We  wouldn't BE in this awkward sitch if you hadn't made  poor and unauthorized decisions about the scent of your personal hygiene products now would we?"

When he was done, he asked me to sniff his armpits. "Ummm noooo. I will trust that they are Spring Clean freshy- fresh now and that you no longer smell like church candy found in the bottom of some dead old lady's purse. Let's go to bed now."

And I dreamed a delightful dream of meadows and rainbows with no arm pit candy in sight- or smell!