Breath of Fresh Air

I was having a conversation with an ex co-worker about her staff member, whose breath is downright foul.  I remember him very well and I implored her to say something.  It's a touchy subject and very hard to do, but it must be done.  It's not fair to him and it's REALLY not fair to her!  In the long run, they'll both appreciate the candid convo.  In general, we all talk a good game about what we'd say and how we'd want someone to tell us...but do we?  Honestly, could you tell your lover or family member that they didn't smell so well?  An occasional bad breath day, okay. But what about funky feet or putrid pits?  Bad balls or tart tits?  Would you, could you tell a friend? Would you, could if they offend?      

A while ago I told one of my exes that his breath wasn't on the money.  He ate gobs of pasta, loaded with garlic and I hated it.  I'd complain and refuse smooches.  Out of retaliation, he told me that I was "musky" sometimes.  I didn't put any weight to it, however (is that the saying?). Anyway, in response to my complaints, he tried to correct the problem.  That's all I needed - acknowledgment, acceptance, and a GD effort.  Some people need more than that though. They need a full out intervention, with a signed commitment to change, forever.

I remember being with my cousins, during our annual cousins reunion weekend thingy.  We were posing and taking pictures left and right.  I was sitting on the couch and putting my arm around one cousin, to take our last picture before we left.  As we were gathering purses and taking last swigs, she said, "Did you put on deodorant?" SHOCKED.  One by one, I lifted my arms to take a whiff and said, "Yeah, do I stink?"  She said, "Yeah girl."  I laughed and was like, "OMG, thank you."  I ran upstairs, washed my underarms ('cause you can't put sweet on top-a funk), slathered myself in Degree, and ran down the steps.  When we got into the car, I told everybody about what she said and thanked her, 'cause THAT'S a real thang she did.  Now of course, I'm incredibly self conscious.  I have a teeny travel size stick of Degree at work and in my car and in my purse and in....just joking, but I do have one in my overhead at my office.  Think I might have OCD or something.  Before clubbing, I tend to rub on a little more than usual as I'm heading out the door.  Phucking deo balls practically fall from my pits when I'm dancing and raising the roof.  Ha!  I bring new meaning to "making it rain."  I'm making it snow on suckas!!!