Her mom: “Ummmm, sweetie?”
Her: “What, Mom?”
Mom: “Well, sweetie, you’re little arms are starting to stink.”
Her: [Begans wailing]
Remembering that conversation makes me laugh every time. It was obviously pretty traumatic being told you smelled like a sweating hippo. It kind of gets you right in the heart, apparently. After that conversation with her mom, she began piling on the deodorant. She probably used a stick of Secret per pit.
I don’t remember having that kind of conversation with my mom. I don’t know if one day I smelled something funky and decided to go talk to my mom about it. Perhaps we were walking on the beach with our hands in our pockets and our hair freshly hot rolled and instead of re-creating a Summer’s Eve commercial, I asked “Mom, do you use deodorant?” instead.
Deodorant is one of those essential things one must not forget when getting ready in the morning, but it seems so often people do. Take my masseuse at an upscale spa in Santa Fe, New Mexico, for example. He apparently forgot his Speedstick. I was lying on my stomach ready to receive a “Swedish massage” when all of a sudden I was hit in the face with the scent of donkey breath. It kept wafting my way. It didn’t take long to realize that this smell occurred each time Swedish Massage Man lifted his skinny, hairy arm. He just talked away about the massage and flapped his arm up and down like a dingdang chicken while I willed my face and nose from contorting into an awful “WHY DO YOU SMELL LIKE A DONKEY?” face. Maybe the Swedish don’t use deodorant and that was part of the experience?
(CONFESSION: Sometimes when I run out of deodorant, I will borrow my husband’s until I have a chance to go to the store. Every now and then, I will glance behind me expecting to see him and then realize it’s because I’ve got on his Old Spice Deodorant.)
Since that conversation with my neighbors yesterday, deodorant has obviously been on my mind. I’m thinking I’ve got to start putting my face right in my son’s armpit every day. He’s 7. Too young, right? I just can’t have him going to school smelling like a yak’s wet fur! I’ve got to catch it as soon as it happens. So, tell me…
|(Via: Impervious To Bullets)|