Now, I’m not completely repulsive. Please bear that in mind when you read the next line.
Today, I finally managed to have a shower.
I’d bathed on Sunday in an attempt to curb the swelling.
That had not worked.
Then I was bandaged up by the emergency doctor.
My bandages were changed three times a day by people with varying bandaging techniques.
And on each change, no one mentioned the elephant in the room. The distinct odour hovering around my body parts.
As I said, I’m not a complete minger. (Scots to English translation: totally disgusting person, sorry, I just couldn’t find a better word). I had scraped around with the flannel at every opportunity. I had doused myself in deodorant. Seriously. There were children choking. But neither can compare with a hot shower pounding against your skin.
No one refers to it. When you’re being bandaged up. The doctors don’t tell you how to climb in the bath without the use of your feet. Neither do they blow the whistle on how you conjure up super-powers, and stand up long enough to take a shower, when you can hardly stagger from the sofa to the loo.
In plain simple English: you are left to stink.
So, my wound being closed now (although I still have to adorn my legs with bright yellow antiseptic three times daily until Sunday, and I’m still going around with mummy legs), and my ability to stand up having immensely improved, I stepped into the most delicious shower and attempted to soap myself with my ‘new’ Naomi Campbell body lotion.
I say new, the bottle was in truth, part of a gift given to me for my birthday two years ago, by my son. He’d charmed the shop assistant while buying the perfume and had been given it for free.
I know all of this because he was so pleased with himself, he’d felt the need to give a full and frank account of the whole shopping experience.
I will admit that part of his character does come from my side.
I do exactly the same to my husband.
“I got you this present! And it’s especially cool because I got it for half price!”
I’m always more impressed in a gift that’s been a right old bargain. But my husband? He seems, somehow, less dazzled?!?
It took me some time to start using the Naomi Campbell body lotion because I’m often given shower and bath commodities as presents. I assure myself it’s because I have quite a lot of these bandaged up incidents. On top of that, if I’m honest, I’m not Naomi Campbell’s biggest fan.
Don’t get me wrong, I do think she’s pretty. In actual fact, I would say she’s one of the prettiest models I know of. Not that I know of many, as I’m not particularly interested in models. Quite probably because I have a serious deficit in the facial recognition area of my brain. I once watched the best part of a film, completely confused because I couldn’t tell Leo Dicaprio apart from Jason Bourne. I thought that only one of them was in it and the plot, thus, made no sense whatsoever.
But his bloody name isn’t Jason Bourne is it? *off to check Wikipedia* Matt Damon, that’s it.
Where was I? Ah, yes. Naomi.
In all truth, I went off her when she found herself unable to decide between wearing and not wearing fur. And her subsequent behaviour hasn’t helped her case.
So, should I have been the purchaser, I would have wandered off to another shelf and not even taken a whiff of the perfume that had her name sprawled all over it.
But the perfume was bought by my son. At a reduced price, he’d excitedly informed me. And then to top that, this tube of body lotion happened to be thrown in for free.
*Truth be told, the perfume actually smells quite nice and my son’s always pleased when I wear ‘his’ scent.*
This morning during my delicious shower I washed and conditioned my hair. Then squeezed some of the content of the Naomi Campbell tube onto my normally very effective bath lily and attempted to lather it up.
My first thought was, “This is one really crap shower gel!”
My second thought was, “It’s more like a body lotion than a shower gel.”
Then some kind of bell clanged in my head.
I removed the bottle from the shelf, held it two centimeters from my nose, as is needed without the use of artificial lenses, and deciphered B O D Y L O T I O N.
Luckily my face couldn’t turn any pinker and even if it could have, no one could have seen it through all the steam anyway.