As part of the preparation process, I chopped an onion. Nit was a really strong one and made me weep onion tears. Those, I find, are the best ones, despite the hell they put me through.
But there's another side effect to chopping onions. It's not one that anyone else seems to suffer from. At least not as dramatically as me!
My hands smell of onions. Not just a bit. A lot. I may as well have onions for hands. And the smell won't go away for days. No matter how much I wash them, they just continue to stink of onions.
Yesterday at work, Rachael* tried to mask the smell with the liberal application of her moisturising hand cream, which smells of old ladies. The net effect of this was that my hands smelled of old, oniony ladies.
Then I used a hand drier in the gents (no, not like that - to try my hands!). It was catastrophic. Not only did I fail to smell less oniony, but the strength of the odour increased by a factor of ten!
I am fated to suffer this affliction forever. Nor at least for the next few days until it wears off.
Dr K, who is a scientist**, has a theory. I am actually made of onions.
Perhaps I was the result of a crazy interbreeding experiment between man and vegetable. Maybe there are other people out there who smell of cabbage or parsnip.
When I come into contact with my fellow onions, my inherent onionness comes out of me. Literally, oozes out of my pores.
Maybe if you cut me open, I would have layers!
Whatever the answer, the fact remains that if I ask you to smell my finger, it's probably because it smells of onion!
( * There's your long awaited name-check, Rach. You're famous now! )
( * And quite, quite mad. How else do you explain her reasons for putting up with my nonsense? )
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