Well, it's been quite a while since I last posted, hasn't it?
In my life, I like to think I maintain a clean lifestyle. I shower at least once a day; I brush my teeth everyday; I wash my hands after I use the bathroom...But I guess these are things that aren't exactly valued in the worlds of other teenagers.
When I'm not clean, I can feel it. I know when I'm greasy and grimy, and I hate the feeling of it. If I don't wash my body, I'm not in a very good mood. One of my friends, though, hasn't really found the wonders of bathing everyday and keeping fresh. He has hair that just comes down enough to cover his forehead (Which means it's pretty long, considering the size of his cranium). His locks of brown are always greasy, and a single scrubbing shows one hell of a difference. His skin is extra oily from the excess of body oils that are caked on there. He truly disgusts me.
This made me think a little bit. What is the reason I don't have many friends who have so much body fat that they create their own little solar system of tiny animals and tissue boxes? Is it because I don't want our little dog Sprazzo getting sucked into a gravitational pull? Is it because I fear getting hit in the face by a chipmunk? I don't think so. I think it's because I value personal hygiene above most other daily rituals. In my mind, if you're not taking care of your body, I'm not completely sure I want to hang out with you. Shouldn't the same idea apply to this situation?
Well, I've talked to our soap-deprived friend about it. I have told him that it's not just me who realizes this, but many of us bystanders to this overwhelming phenomenon of stench. I tried to enlighten him; I tried to help him cross over the line that divides those who are ignorant to the daily cleaning process and those who enjoy that warm waterfall that is a nice shower. I thought he got the point, and I rejoiced. He showered that night...and then not a single time in the next three weeks. Believe me, I kept track.
He sits next to me in our band class. While I'm ignoring his filthy body, I can see a boy named Steve who is a year older than me sitting three chairs over. Every single band period, he tries to clean out his nose with a thumb and a forefinger. He sticks his thumb in his nose, and I can only imagine how angry his brain must get when it is stabbed repeatedly by a fingernail. If he's not playing his alto saxophone, he is digging through a goldmine of snot and boogers. Does he ever find anything? Why, of course! He doesn't do the 'pick-and-flick' or the 'roll,' and he doesn't even eat it. He simply rubs the findings on his bottom lip. I kid you not, folks. He simply rubs it across his lip until he is satisfied with the job he has done.
Don't get me wrong, guys. I have nothing against the occasional nose rub, and I will be the first to admit that I pick my nose from time to time. When I do, though, I make sure I get to a tissue as soon as I can and I will always wash my hands afterward. With our nose picker, however, it's not just an occasional thing. In band class, we have to find ways to amuse ourselves. One of the ways we have found is to bet on how many times any one of his fingers will enter his nasal cavity. The highest number he has reached in a single period? 16. The lowest? 9.
It's disgusting. The thought of being greasy, or constantly having a finger in my nose really makes me want to kick a baby and curb stomp a puppy. It's something that grinds my gears more than the phrase 'grinds my gears.' How do these people deal with it?