Rotting taco meat.
That’s probably the best description of the smell emanating from the guy next to me on the stair master machine. It was kind of unbelievable, because I can’t say that I’ve ever smelled that kind of funk from any human being in my entire life. It was like the myth of sweating what you eat was actually coming true from this guy or something.
All I know is that it was making me sick to my stomach, and that it turned my stair climbing session into the worst 25 minutes of my entire life. I seriously can’t fathom how such an odor can come from an actual person.
I don’t think it has to be said, but the guy was fat. He was also dripping sweat like Sid Justice used to back in old WWF, but he was going at a significantly lower pace than I was. When the smell hit me, I literally stumbled briefly, my foot not making it all the way up the next step, kicking the very top instead. I fought through the nausea, and turned my head to the left, just to find less pungent, breathable oxygen. And then some dude had to come and start using the machine right next to me, so out of discretion and not wanting to give off the impression that I would be constantly staring right at this guy, I was forced to maintain a looking forward position.
The stench was absolute misery. Once again, I must exclaim my disbelief that such a foul funk was actually coming out of another human being. I typically don’t like to watch clocks when doing any sort of cardio exercise, but time simply couldn’t move fast enough to get me away from the smell.
I want people I know to be honest with me; from what I understand, people have a difficult time identifying if they have any body odors, because we tend to be so used to them that we don’t notice them. It may not be something that’s easily controllable, but the least I could do is attempt to alleviate, or at least mask it or something. But seriously, I don’t want to end up like Mr. Smells Like Rotten Taco Meat. It’s embarrassing, disgusting, and most of all, painfully inconsiderate to those around.
I’m pretty sure I’d rather be dead than to be known as the funky B.O. guy.