“Let’s cut a deal.” I look at him expectantly. “I’ll give you alcohol if you have a shower.” I realize I’m wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that haven’t been washed in a month. I probably smell. I still brush my teeth regularly, but my body hasn’t met a deodorant or body lotion in three weeks. And, in what I think is an encouraging sign, I finally have the awareness to feel embarrassed about it. “You mean with soap and everything?” I pout, trying to lighten up the mood.
