Tuesday, December 01, 2009

Anti-Deodorant Dissertation

I am not willing to come out and say that I am explicitly against deodorant. Quite the contrary. In fact, I find the idea amazing. I often ponder the person who came up with the idea and how they pitched it in their head. (Light bulb enters stage right and pauses for a brief moment before pulling its own string and turns itself on. Simultaneously, Dr. Jules Bernard Montenier let's out an audible "EUREKA!") All one need do is rub this magic salve under your arms and smell like a rose all day long. Some are strong enough for a man, but pH balanced for a woman. Others claim that anything else would be uncivilized. This is all good stuff. What I don’t like is the idea of cramming aluminum into my pores and calling it a day. The idea terrifies me. I know that there is "evidence" that a lot of these adverse health "findings" are totally "bogus." Still, the idea gives me a serious case of the wiggins, which is why I am a soley deodorant wearer. No aluminum for moi.
Now, if you are a woman who does not wish to use anti-perspirant, the deodorant endeavor becomes even more interesting. It is impossible to walk into any drug store and find what you need. Also, when I did, it was always baby powder scent. Have you smelt righteous BO mixed with baby powder? It’s like baby diarrhea to the nth degree. It is terrible. I have tried the various hippy brands and don’t get me started, don't even get me started. Now, I know why hippies smell. It's not the patch pants or the disdain of contributing to a market economy—it’s the effing deodorant! My compromise is to buy men’s deodorant. Only a few scents do I find truly repulsive on me and, incidentally, they are also the scents I find repulsive on men. Musk is the number one turn off. If I smell a musky underarm I get to packing. Generally, I am a speed stick girl. However, lately, the original has been letting me down. So, in an attempt to reduce my stank factor, I decided to try the irish spring inspired scents. The first one was a hit. I smelled faintly of soap and water. It was awesome. Then, I got cocky. If one in this scent line was good they must all be, right? WRONG. The Speed Stick Irish Spring Icy Blast smells like leprechaun taint. Everytime I lift my arm I think I am smelling the sweaty under carriage of a lumberjack. I get someone else to smell me and they say they smell cologne. It is enough to drive a sistah crazy. Now, I am forced to wash shirts after every wear that I might otherwise wear 2-3 times between washes.
It is for this reason that I find myself in a frenetic state--head to the wall, fists pounding and cursing the man who started it all: Dr. Jules Bernard Montenier. Damn you straight to hell, mister.