The Girl in the Pin-Striped Trousers: Life, Hygiene, and Me

Milk bath

A new column by:

The Girl in the Pinstriped Trousers

Considering the ridiculously embarrassing-for-me-but-amusing-to-others life I have led up to this point, it would be really quite selfish not to share it with the world. Or at least the small fraction of the world that wants to know. That’s you. Yes, you, the one reading this.

A little bit about me: I’m one of those people who’s always very tempted to put smiley faces at the end of sentences, a mannerism that betrays me as a member of the oh-so-disapproved-of text-and-chat generation. But not just that, it’s also my need to interject the word “like” into every sentence and my actually quite disturbing issue with hygiene, in that I have none. In today’s world of hand sanitiser in every handbag, schoolbag, and briefcase, and of hypoallergenic pillows on every bed, it’s truly hard to believe that there is anyone left who really doesn’t give a flying ferret if their apple fell on the floor before eating it. Neither is there anyone who doesn’t, when you go to shake their hand, have a nice blob of Dettol waiting in their palm, anticipating that satisfying squelch. No, I’m very sorry, God of Cleanliness; I have long since shed the plastic bubble we were all introduced to upon entering the 21st century.

Now, this is not to say I have rejected civilisation’s rules of hygiene completely. Contrary to your belief, I am not living quite happily in a ditch with my pet cockroaches feasting on the layer of grime that has slowly built up on my person after years of dismissing the bath or shower as “instruments of shameless capitalism and manipulation”. I am in fact relieved to say that I live in a relatively cockroach-free environment and in a state of perfectly acceptable cleanliness. So that’s all good.

I guess now you know about my deepest, darkest secrets. I hope that you and I have formed a bond: a fragile one, but a bond all the same.

In retrospect, this looks like a weekly manual on how to hide the revolting troll inside you who sometimes forgets to change your bed sheets on a Sunday. I promise it’s not. What this is really about is….some deep stuff.  Okay, so I don’t really know but I suppose, without meaning to sound overly philosophical and/or pretentious, you are free to decide what you will about the rambles of my mind. Take whatever messages you would like into life. Although, I wouldn’t advise informing your friends and family about your potential lack of hygiene; you will find yourself sitting alone at parties, if invited at all, and spending a surprisingly large amount of time enjoying your own space on most forms of public transport. If you are seeking a little “me-time” or just enjoy your own company, then by all means: go for it.

Photography: bayat on Flickr (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0).

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One Response to The Girl in the Pin-Striped Trousers: Life, Hygiene, and Me

  1. Sally Arnott says:

    You are just the most amazing writer, you have the much-missed gift of being able to capture the reader even when you are writing about the biggest tosh ever(this isn’t, but you could write something bad and make it fantastic all the same!) I would read any book you write, even if it were about tennis balls or the history of paper.

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