I came to a semi-alarming realization this week: I think I may very well be a snob.

It's not that I don't deign to do certain things or deem certain situations, places, and people as beneath me. It more has to do with what I will and will not wear. Shallow? Absolutely. Non-negotiable? Pretty much.

Let me back track a bit. One of my co-workers was writing a very clever story on the 11 Celebrity Fragrances Our Editors Are Embarrassed to Love. And, it got me to thinking. I don't care HOW much I love a J. Lo or a Jennifer Aniston or a (perish the thought) Britney Spears scent -- there is NO WAY I would ever, ever, wear it. "Embarrassed" is one thing. Categorically shunning something based on something so shallow is another.

So, in an effort to try to rid myself of this despicable shortcoming, I tried to picture myself in CVS picking up the (no doubt tacky) box and heading on over to the register. But I couldn't even visualize such a thing. WHY? The cashier wouldn't care (after all, she sells enemas and personal lubricants and nose hair clippers all day). No one would have to "know" and I'd smell good, right? I guess. But, still, try as I might, this mental scenario was a no go.

This saddens me. Am I so wrapped up in what people think that I'd deny myself an affordable, good-smelling scent just because I think it's cheesy? The answer is a resounding yes.

How do I cure myself? (Short of some sort of intervention where my friends and family arrive armed with boxes of Kate Walsh and Halle Berry and (aaaaack!) Paris Hilton/Jessica Simpson perfume?) I know that not everyone feels this way -- after all, these starlets rake in mega bucks with these olfactory endeavors. So there has to be a way to just get over my lame self and spritz along with the hoi polloi.

I've got this. Give me a month and you'll have a whole new (super-smelling) evolved blogger on your hands.