It was a very disturbing wake-up call, and it's made me obsessive about personal hygiene ever since. I do double body washes — soap followed by sugar scrub followed by more soap — so the only thing one could accuse my skin of being is stripped. But occasionally, there have been cold winter days when my building's old water heater breaks, or when I wake up in a panic 40 minutes before I'm supposed to be at my desk, and only have time for a wipe of a damp washcloth — a "whore's bath," as one's grandma might say. I've always felt disgusting on those days, like I was reverting back to my dirt-crusted, horse hair-covered former self.