On Smelling Bad

This morning I awoke in the predawn darkness to one terrifying thought:  I had forgotten to set my alarm.  I had gone to bed with phone in hand, ready to set the alarm, but had fallen asleep before I could perform this vital bit of preparation.  I groped in the blackness for my phone—I couldn’t find it.  What time was it?  How long had I slept?  Was I going to be late for work?  I quickly sprang out of bed, remembering just in time that the floor was filled with my duffel bag and pack I hadn’t bothered to unpack the night before.  I flicked on the light, found my phone, and stared intently at the numbers displayed so calmly on the screen.  6:09!  I was both in trouble and in luck.  I had slept in by almost half an hour, but I also hadn’t slept in too late to make my carpool if I skipped a few little steps in my morning routine.  You see, getting ready in a hurry is all about priorities.  My teeth got brushed; my hair did not.  My hands were washed, my hair and face were not.  Another layer of make-up and hair gel later, I was out the door. 

      

I arrived at school expecting to feel a little gross.  Slightly hairy legs, greasy hair, and two layers of makeup will do that to a girl.  What I didn’t expect was a spate of vile smelling gas and persistent bad breath, despite the fact that I had brushed my teeth this morning.  There’s nothing like being in front of people all day long to remind you that you neither look nor smell your best.  I worked with over a hundred 8^th graders today.  My only consolation is that, at their age, they’re so concerned with how they look that they have few thoughts to spare for my condition.