The Diaper Aisle

When I was in high school, I worked at the local grocery store. Coworkers included my older brother, Danny, and my older sister, Kristi.

I was a cashier, Danny was a stock boy, and Kristi was an all around helper of an employee. She filled in for the receiver, front desk, manager, whoever needed filling in for. Sometimes, she stocked the Health and Beauty aisle. If we were particularly slow, the office girl would send me to help her, which I loved!

So, HBA is makeup, soap, shaving cream, stuff like that. And... diapers. I don't know what it is, but I LOVE the smell of diapers (IN PACKAGES, as in UNUSED). I find it to be a distinct and specific scent, and whenever I'm in the grocery store, I always walk down this aisle and take in a deep breath.

I know, it's weird.

I don't care. There is something so nostaligic about this scent for me. I connect a lot of scents to memories, like my Aunt Re-Re's perfume, or the smell of banana popsicles that remind me of my Nana & Pop Pop's house. Maybe it's the innocence of that time in my life, when the biggest deal of my life was who I would dance with at the prom. Now, there's bigger fish to fry, but these memories are still so very fresh.

Here's something else weird to distract you. My sister and I both smell everything before we eat it. If you order a dish, or a drink, we both ask to smell it before we decide if we want to ask to taste it. I smell t-shirts that are brand new. I smell towels that are fresh out of the dryer. I smell everything I can. This morning, driving into work, I could smell another woman's perfume in the car in front of me. It's bizarre, and I'm proud of it.

And it runs in my family, at least with my sister, so if I'm weird, so is she.