A look at the world through my eyes. Well, just part of the world.

I hardly ever leave my room without forgetting something. Usually, it’s something small I can do without, like a water bottle or a notebook. But when I forgot to put on deodorant one day last week, it caused quite a few problems.

I was eating lunch with my friend Pauline when I first noticed I smelled. The unpleasant odor radiating from my underarms made me realize in an instant that I had made that age-old, rookie mistake of neglecting my Axe.

Pauline told me it didn’t make a difference, but I couldn’t help feeling self-conscious. By the time I successfully executed my fourth stretch-and-sniff maneuver, she threatened to switch tables. Since the 10-minute walk to my room seemed daunting, I was forced to go about my day feeling like one of those women from the feminine itch commercials.

I developed a hyper-awareness of my armpits that was unlike anything I had ever known. Do they normally feel this prickly? Will I sweat less if I just concentrate? Are those pit stains forming? Why is the left smell more pronounced than the right?

I had become that kid from my high school whom everyone refused to stand next to during lunges in gym class. He hugged a friend of mine at a party once. The stench stayed on her clothes for hours.

Even the simplest actions were complicated by my constant need to keep my arms glued to my sides.

Maybe I have some kind of perpetual problem, I began to think. I thought back to that day in elementary school when my family sat me down in the living room.

“You smell,” my mom said.

She held up my very first anti-perspirant stick and told me, “I bought this for you. You have to use it every day from now on.”

I knew an intervention was a bit dramatic, even at the ripe age of 9 or 10.

After a day of over-analyzing whether or not perfect strangers were crossing the street to get away from my smell, I was sure I would never forget my deodorant again.

That’s why I felt particularly stupid when I made the same mistake again just days later.

I stood in Pauline’s room and almost screamed in frustration as the familiar prickling feeling in my armpits confirmed my fears. Not again.

Pauline stopped me when she saw me reaching for her Dove for Women.

“You’ll smell like a girl,” she said. “That’s just weird.”