Ginger Murray
Apr 23 · 3 min read

To The Stink

Karen Finley —

We are the stinky ones.

We cannot wear silk.

Well, we Can wear it but it is one of those fabrics that announces, through dark sweat stains, our considerable stinkiness. Denim is good for us. And so are sequins. The sequins don’t care.

We are the ones you should definitely have remove our shoes when we come into your house. The whole world is on our heels.

Digging through our purses will likely reveal tobacco flakes and old Band-aids and ink seeping pens, scribbled on napkins and maybe, an apple core.

Our clothes, usually acquired second hand are often missing buttons. The hems lag and a few stains of various kinds -grass, blood, paint, coffee, wine -will invariably be found.

We do not iron.

We do subscribe to the ‘care for your hair so don’t wash it everyday’ rule. Which means, we have a greater statistical likelihood of being greasy in public.

We may own a hairdryer but it is probably dusty as so rare is it that such a thing is pulled out from the back of the bathroom cabinet.

We like spicy food and especially, garlic. We have been known to have hot sauce in our bag.

We may have an occasional special night where those nails are filed, our cuticles creamed, our toes treated to a warm bath in a large salad bowl.

But as stated, these nights are ‘special’. The rest of the year we don’t give a toss.

Scars are obvious, bruises copious. Not from anything, necessarily, nefarious but just because we are so busy pulsing around that we have a tendency to be careless with that tender skin of ours.

We might get a little too, ahem, communicative at your dinner party largely comprised of sensible people. We have a bad habit of singing in the rain. We like rain because we can use it as an excuse as to why our hair is wet at five pm.

Laughter is a thing that can happen to us as though it were an affliction. Like delirium tremins, like a St. Vitas dance. We can’t stop until all the laughs have been laughed. We will probably accidentally insult your boss. We are however, really good with moms. We love moms.

In any given situation we might veer left when right is the trend, be loud when quiet is demanded, be antsy when stillness reigns, feel a whole hell of a lot when Feeling is viewed as slightly indecent, give a big, unabashed, pull in your whole soul hug when that is a very surprising thing to do.

We are the stinky ones.

Pardon me, those readers that I have. I published this purely so I can read it at a live event. If you enjoy it as it is, then well — I am happy.

And please enjoy a picture of my wolf cat who is best known as Gus Gus. Full name: Gustavo Federico Solano.


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    Ginger Murray

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    I write and trouble make