Let them sniff cake

Science has shown that VNOs in the nostrils subconsciously, and on a very chemical level, perform many tasks which help us regulate certain body maintenance functions and to help us locate mates through pheromone senses.

But holy crap, it’s Friday and that’s boring!

Instead, I’m going to drink my beverage and talk about the more obvious role of the nose and our sense of smell in weight loss. (Because if you’re out there smelling armpits this early in the morning, I have a therapist for you).

Science has shown (don’t fall asleep yet) through various studies that people weren’t as interested in food when they didn’t have their sense of smell intact.

Moving beyond this, look at the multimillion dollar aromatherapy market. Candles, hand lotions, bath salts, soaps, and potpourris have been smellifying our lives for awhile now. With the ability to send calm, snazzy feelings to the brain and enhance our chemical feelings of well-being, it shouldn’t be any surprise that I use this tenet in order to make my life of low-carb living one in which I sniff stuff.

Hello. My name is Jamie and I sniff stuff.

And quite openly, I might add. (Closet sniffers tend to smell mothballs or cedar)

Wasn’t a famous poet known to once have said, “Take the time to smell a rose?” Well, my rose tends to be in the form of a chocolate doughnut. Or Little Caesar’s Crazy Bread. Or Doritoes. Or cake. Or Halloween candy.

Just one deep sniff, horked into my inner lungs of happiness, and I’m in 7th heaven of deliciousness. I’ve experimented with sniffing and with eating, and, believe it or not, the sniffing is better. The chemicals foods are injected with to trick the brain into thinking its delicious become pretty apparent when you’ve cut all of that stuff out of your foods.

If you want to try something different o experimenters of fate, sniff a box of graham crackers (open the box first, you git) and sniff. Nothing. A box of Cheerios. Nothing. Granola bars. Nothing. Not everything smells like anything. It actually puts me off a bit to think that the things I used to eat en masse don’t smell any different than the box– and that’s a bit of a tip-off, isn’t it? The package is probably healthier. I mean the front of the box even reads, “8 essential vitamins and iron”. Who am I to argue with cardboard nutrients?

Sniffing stuff gets me through major holidays, like Halloween, when, planted on my back on the bed at the end of a stressful day, you’ll find me with a Snickers bag over my face, unopened, as I’m inhaling its delicious chocolatey aroma deeply. My husband just walks into the bedroom, sighs, and retreats.

He knows. It’s Snickers time.

I sniff things and it brings me comfort.

I am the nose vampire.

I bought my daughter a Snickers bar at the store one day, and MAN, did it smell awesome! I was driving home afterwards, and, after she’d inhaled the choco-confection, she offered the wrapper (o daughter! O blood of my blood!). I inhaled deeply. I was happy. I drove home in a complete mist of scented nougat goodness. Did I remember the wrapper was stuck to my nose? Oh-ho!

Do oxygen patients remember they have a mask stuck to theirs?

Heck no! Behold my Snickers wrapper, for it was stuck to my nose! I waved to my neighbor. I waved to the concerned passing motorist. Awkward social moment, or opportunity for a life lesson in nose pirating?

This is life and Life is smelling!

Well, not smelling like, “Ooh, one word: Right Guard”. OK. Well that’s two.

Smelling is life!

So go ahead, my friend! Sniff that pizza! Smell that doughnut! Inhale that vat of chocolate pudding.

Just don’t fall in. It is difficult to doggy paddle in chocolate.

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