I'm the one they all talk about

I think its true, I think I'm the one that smells in the office. The one they talk about in hushed whispers in the corridors. I wondered why we didn't have one. There's always one. It did cross my mind that there were no such mutterings in this company, that there was no employee that did smell.

I was wrong.

I think I can smell my feet. In fact, there is no I think about that. That would just be wishful thinking.

Admittedly, this is (at least hopefully) due to the fact I've just been out for a run and I've got holes in my trainers (another trip to TK MAXX is on the cards I feel) so they're not particularly delightful down there in the dark depth of my trainers. But my feet are a fair way away and I can smell them.

At least, I guess, I am not so accustomed to unholy odours that I am used to the smell. That is, I hope, some small blessing that I don't usually smell bad.

So not only do I have my sweat glands to keep under control as they relentlessly battle against my will to exude as much water as possible under all scenarios (the more embarrassing and humiliating the better, my glands appear to have a personal vendetta they are pursuing in order to mock me publicly as often as they see fit, it appears they like to flirt relentlessly with pissing me off), but I have to worry about my feet smelling too.

I'm going to have to Febreeze my trainers. Or else buy a second pair for running in (what any other, more hygienic and decent person would have done initially, thus preventing said humiliation through offensive odours). But that would mean buying two pairs of trainers. And I'll be damned if you can ever find two of anything in the MAXX (buying two different pairs, or visiting a sports shop, I should add, is completely out of the question therefore not even worth dignifying with a concern).

My personal hygiene, I thought, was quite high. I shower frequently, usually twice a day. I am, to all intents and purposes, clean.

My feet are clean. I had a shower just 2 hours ago post run. My trainers are telling a different story, announcing to me and the rest of my colleagues that I am in fact unclean and smell.

My clothes are joining my glands, uniting against the common enemy (me it seems) and rebelling against the sweet smells of cleaning products that I sacrifice to them.

Which is nice.

Oh and my productivity has actually retreated. I've decided the design I've done looks crap and in need of much attention by a real designer rather than the FraudStress that is attempting it at the moment. It needs a taste transplant and I've a feeling I'm not qualified to take on the task.

Blogs 4, productivity 0.