Tonight I thought I'd attempt to describe what life with my nose is like. This is going to be difficult for me because I have a bad case of morning sickness that is causing me to be nauseous at this very moment, and merely typing the tale I am about to type could cause me to "use the facilities" to put it delicately. The rest of you, however, should be fine.
To preface my tale, I'd just like to say that I generally have a very sensitive nose, but when I am pregnant (which I am right now), my nose acts as if it is on steroids. On with the story (and although it may seem as if it is imbellished, it is not).
My husband and I decided to go to Carrabbas last night for our date. I put on a new silk blouse that I have been wanting to wear and immediately I smelled very strongly the unmistakable smell of pure silk. At least it is unmistakable to me, because I smell it everytime I am around silk, but it is much stronger when I am pregnant. I bet most of you didn't even know silk has a smell, well it does, it's sort of a subtle musty smell. So from that point on, I smelled silk everytime I inhaled. We get to Carrabbas, and make the colossal mistake of accepting a table near the door. We sit down, and Immediately I smell wood varnish as if a fresh can had been opened underneath my nose. It was so strong that I had to turn away and exclaim "Do you smell that?!" Which is a thing I say quite often. Jon looks at me quizzically as I wonder aloud if the wood trim next to us had just been painted. Jon sticks his nose against the wood and sniffs and then he claims he can't smell anything. So I decide to do my best to ignore it even though the idea of eating next to an open can of varnish would put most people off. Pretty soon people come and stand near our table waiting for a table of their own and I begin to smell skin. Yes, you read that right, skin. This time I don't even bother to ask Jon as I am pretty sure I am the only one who can smell the more subtle smell of other people's skin (I mean if he can't even smell an opened can of varnish...right?). Now, while it is true that skin isn't as strong a smell as others, it is incredibly disgusting and way too intimate a thing to be smelling if you aren't in love with the person, so I decide to turn my nose toward the varnish. Pretty soon, our food comes (which Ironically doesn't smell nearly as strongly as the other smells I'm smelling--think about that next time you smell good food), and we begin to eat. No sooner than I had taken my first few bites--my nose went from zero to cigarrette-up-my-nose in nothing flat. I just about loose it as I recoil in disgust and exclaim "Someone is smoking in here!"
---Now, let me pause a minute to say that I'm sure that my reactions seem melodramatic to some of you reading this, but I assure you that I am smelling these smells very very very strongly and if you smelled them as strongly as I did, you would have a similar reaction, anyone would. So you can see that they are really quite appropriate, even if they are a bit embarrassing for the atmosphere. Back to the night:
This smoke smell was so strong it smelled as if someone were sitting on my lap puffing excess smoke from their cigarrette into my nostrils. I kid you not. I had to cover my nose with my napkin and force myself to breathe through my mouth. Jon was so startled by my reaction, he went to see who was smoking. Sure enough someone was smoking--OUTSIDE by our unopened window. Thankfully puffer Joe decided to put out his cancer stick and I was able to resume my meal. That is until a large group of people came in standing by us waiting for their tables and I began to smell Perfume (as though it had been squirted right up my nose), more skin, and old people. This combination was too strong for me and I almost puked all over the floor, so I decided to cut my losses and wait in the car. By this time, we were finished and just waiting for the check so Jon handed me the keys and I bolted for the door. As I left, I was smacked by another vat of perfume from a lady just entering the building, and I continued to smell her all the way to my car. Later I decided that I probably could have tracked down which car she came out of just like a bloodhound (hmmmm... maybe I could use this talent for good?). I escape to my car, sit down and began to breathe deeply: *silk* exhale, *silk* exhale, *silk* exhale.
Couple all of that with a recurring feeling of nausea and now you know why I'm having a bit of a hard time these days.