A few months ago, after 20 years in prison, I finally experienced what almost every person suffers at least once during their incarceration. Staff placed me in a malodorous cell with a stinky cellmate.
Once the door to my new cell opened and I looked inside, I let out a screech. I was stunned and dismayed by what I saw, and by what I smelled.
Different stenches wafted to my nostrils from every angle: musty blankets, dirty and stained clothes, a foul toilet, an open and coagulated milk carton, and my new, not-so-hygienic cellie.
Every night, suffocating, reeking smells coalesced and invaded my nose.
But the experience made me better appreciate pleasing fragrances. Since I moved into this cell, I have used glamorous fragrance products more frequently to make myself and my cell smell satisfactory.
I wash my clothes in a vibrant pink Zote laundry soap. I run Three Flowers scented hair pomade through my ebony and gray hair. Axe’s Snake Peel body wash, which has an alluring odor of cactus juice, scrubs away all my unpleasant odors and leaves me fragrant and sleek.
When loved ones visit, I drench my smooth, tanned skin in Calvin Klein’s Eternity cologne. My face is radiant and smells of cocoa butter from the lotion I rub on it.
Despite my circumstances, I still want to leave my stinky chamber smelling sensational.
My newfound scents have been popular with our shy prison puppy, a 1-year-old cocker spaniel with oversized shaggy ears in the K-9 rescue program on our prison yard. Kala is hypervigilant but not sociable, presumably because she was rescued from neglect and likely abuse.
She continually avoids most inmates, and only responds to her handlers, who are incarcerated. But one morning, I squatted and extended my scented right arm to pet the puppy. Cautiously, she sniffed my hand with her small, shiny nose.
To everyone’s amazement, she whimpered while wagging her tail and jumped into my arms. I like to think she was delighted by my fragrances.