Soap shmope.

Taking inspiration from Jaywalker, I am in confessional mode. Lets talk about the moderate level of self-neglect that has take place over the festive period. Not showering? Check! Not washing hair? Check! Brushing teeth sporadically (and I'm about to get those invisible plastic braces and I'm scared of what the orthodontist will say)? Yup. And also: living in pyjamas, wearing socks more than once, and then also wearing them to bed, and... but perhaps I should draw a veil over the rest. I have spent a significant chunk of time stewing in my own juices. I have a theory* that it's an extension of agoraphobia, and I remember doing this very same thing when I was 8 and I had my first bout of this desire to get and stay inside a thick layer of comforting warm nesty padding. Which I then wear for days. Padding which, admittedly, smells a little.

I am not inconsiderate. I deodorise. I wash (selectively). I am still reasonably civilised in my appearance. I am merely harking back to an earlier age, when being squeaky clean and befragranced was more for special occasions rather than every day. (Shut up, yes I am.)

But also, there is the relentless cold. I am wearing a vest, two long-sleeved cotton knit tops, a pair of leggings, a cotton knit skirt, a huge Muji smock**, a cashmere cardigan, two pairs of socks and a pair of tall leather boots. I am still freezing cold. Taking a shower feels like an insurmountable challenge. I am igloo-frozen, and the idea of taking my many layers of clothes off and then getting wet... It's just unthinkable.

Just to be clear, I have spent time with people who are seriously self-neglecting, and this is not the same thing. The long-suffering one with whom I live still buries his nose in my hair and says You smell nice. I say, Really? Because I'm pretty dirty. And he says You smell like you. Yesterday he said I smelled like digestive biscuits. I had by then showered and washed my hair and also cooked a curry, so... bit of a mystery that.

*I have a theory about pretty much everything, but that's a different story.


**...which I'm sure makes me look heavily pregnant. Meh, so what. Two fingers to Trinny and Susannah.