Messy Minded Momma

Nothing humbles you quite like being a parent.

As a neurodivergent woman, I’ve always experienced heightened sensitivity to smell. After getting pregnant, that sensitivity only intensified. Being hyperfocused on scent isn’t something I chose, it’s something I seem permanently stuck with. Honestly, I’m fairly confident I was a Bloodhound in a previous life.

I’m also painfully aware that, as a woman, I don’t smell soft and divine like other women seem to. Instead, my natural scent leans more toward “adolescent boy entering puberty.” No matter how hard I try, those light vanilla perfumes never quite work on my skin. Somehow, everything still ends up smelling… earthy.

In high school, I went through a phase where I wore men’s deodorant and cologne because I convinced myself maybe I was simply using the wrong products this whole time. If my body insisted on giving “musky teenage boy,” maybe I just needed to lean into it.

Spoiler alert: it did not help.

I’ve considered going to one of those perfume workshops where they help you create a custom scent for your body chemistry, but they’re either too expensive, or I simply don’t have the time.

Most of the perfumes I own were gifted to me over the years. They’ve essentially been grandfathered into my collection. I still haven’t discovered a scent that truly feels like mine.

Right now, I rotate between Juicy Couture perfumes. Honestly, there hasn’t been one I’ve smelled in the bottle that I didn’t like (except maybe Neon). I wear Viva La Juicy to work and save Just Moi for evenings and weekends.

This morning, while we were heading out the door, my 4-year-old scrunched up his face, looked directly at me, and said, “I don’t like the way you smell.”

Well… I don’t particularly like the way I smell either, babe.

Talk about a humbling experience. Nothing keeps your ego in check quite like a brutally honest 4-year-old before 8 a.m.