300 WORDS on Sense Envy

Lately I am experiencing “sense envy.”

I never had much sense of smell, unlike my sister who can walk into your house and know instantly if you have a bad peach in your refrigerator.  When I was young, I could smell strong aromas, like the lilacs outside the kitchen window, and Love’s Baby Soft perfume.  I loved the smell of the coffee brewing, the fresh-cut grass, and the fudge shop at Busch Gardens. 

And now, I smell nothing.

The original cause of my deficient olfactory was, according to my mother, the removal of my tonsils and adenoids at age 4.  Then, after a fierce bout of Covid in 2020, that was it.
To be honest, I don’t usually miss it. 

Taste is also affected, naturally, which is why I prefer strong-tasting foods, like smoked fish and cheeses.  It is also why I don’t  cook – I mean, would you want a cook that has to ask, “has this chicken gone bad?”  I have more than once put soured milk on my cereal and eaten it without realizing.

My sense of smell sharpened when I was pregnant, which turned out to be unwelcome, as not much smelled good to me, which in turn heightened my nausea.   I loved being able to smell Ian when he was an infant, but my sense diminished quickly after his birth, and I was back to having to be informed of things like Ian needing a diaper change. And really, who wants to smell that?
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So usually, it’s like not missing what I never had.  But lately, I’ll see someone in the grocery store smell a piece of fruit or see a chef on The Bear smell a dish she’s cooking, and I think—it would be cool to be able to smell, and really taste, food.

Lasagna in Florence, Italy

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