Do You Smell That?

Perimenopause Gave Me a Superpower I Never Asked For

Before perimenopause, I had a normal human sense of smell. I could walk past a teenage boy without flinching. I could eat blue cheese without needing to burn sage afterward. I could even survive a public restroom without having an out-of-body experience.

But now? Now my nose is a weaponized bloodhound and unfortunately, everything stinks.

It happened slowly at first. A whiff of someone’s pumpkin spice latte gave me a headache. My kid’s towel started to smell like something that should be buried and mourned. I accused my date of wearing too much cologne, only to find out he hadn’t put anything on at all.

My perimenopausal body, in its infinite wisdom, decided to crank my sense of smell up to 11 just for funsies. I now wake up mid-dream because I smell something weird. Not hear. Not feel. Smell. Like some deranged hormone-fueled TSA K9 on high alert for invisible threats.

And it’s not just bad smells. It’s all smells. The dryer sheets are too strong. My deodorant is “offensive.” Food? Forget about it. Garlic? Gag. Eggs? What are you, trying to murder me? And don’t you dare microwave ramen in this house unless you want to be legally disowned.

Also, and this is important, people smell different now. Like… why? Why does everyone around me suddenly have a distinct and highly specific scent? I know which one of my children wore which hoodie just by sniffing it. That’s not cute. That’s disturbing.

I Googled it, of course. Apparently, increased olfactory sensitivity can be a thing in perimenopause, likely caused by fluctuating estrogen and the slow psychological unraveling of every system in your body.(Okay, I added that last part. But tell me I’m wrong.)

So here I am - the perimenopausal scent detective. Too sensitive to wear perfume, too grossed out to enjoy food, and constantly asking, “Do you smell that?” while everyone around me stares blankly and shakes their heads.

The only upside is that I now know my daughter is lying when she says she did her laundry. I don’t need proof. I can smell the deceit.