A few weeks ago at mass, I decided that I'd much rather smell like Clean Old Man (fresh, scrubbed, a tinge of Old Spice) than Hormonal Teenager (me). But I'd still rather smell like Hormonal Teenager (me) than Fermenting Old Lady (more than one's fair share of perfume -- like twenty shpritzes or something).

I think I am a pretty bad Catholic. Not just for this discovery, but ... the other reasons shall be for another entry, my dear.