My body’s absolute dislike of all fragrances makes going out into public a bit more harrowing than you might consider.

See, manufactured scents – those you find in perfumes, colognes, body washes, laundry, air fresheners, cleaning supplies, candles, and pretty much anything everywhere ever – make me sick. Sitting in a room with a single scented candle burning for just a few minutes causes my headache to creep up from mildly irritating to “Some large mammal is attempting to step on your temples just now”.

So you can imagine, this comes up a lot.

AND I HATE IT.

Because now I am THAT woman.

Oh you know her. She comes into the room and immediately asks you if you mind blowing out every lovely scented candle you set out for your fall themed party. Then she sits close to the open window for the next half hour. She also holds her breath in elevators when you wear too much perfume, and even washes her face and arms in the bathroom if you hug her and it rubs off or she rolls down every window in your UBER when you decide to liberally douse it in smelly disinfectant.

She’s INVASIVE. She pushes her needs in front of your carefully designed plans and decor and personal hygiene choices.

And I have to be her because suffering in silence isn’t an option. Prolonged exposure means days of misery for me so instead I head it off by heaping misery on you.

Or that’s how it feels to me.

I am sure most people are willingly blowing out candles or – at worst – are mildly put out when I have requests about these things but it feels like I am being the bossiest, most demanding, most obnoxious woman on Earth.

It makes it so hard to leave the house.

It’s not just preparing to socialize and mask pain around people I love, it’s having the strength and readiness to encounter threats to my physical well being all over the place and demand they be put away for my comfort.

Which is why, the older I get, the more I choose to curl up in my comfy cave and hide here forever. Like a cranky Goblin.