girly soap
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I have a thing about smells. Especially when it's me. Ever since I received that first bottle of Avon cologne in 6th grade from my Grandma Thompson, I've been all over smelling good. In fact, my dresser is a hall of fame of men's cologne. A little dab'll do ya. Right? But then there's the soap factor. I like a good soap that won't ex foliate every layer of skin in one use; usually bar soap. The problem with bar soap is that after two weeks or so, it becomes the size of an oblong penny. Much like the penny crunchers at the mall that you can grind flat or that piece of silly putty that gets hard after sitting out on the table all night. |
| I try to use that bar to the very end. And then it cracks in half and I have to fuse them back together to get a good lather on the washcloth. It's like a hard taco shell that breaks right down the middle. It's a button for me; a nerve-ending connected directly to the irritation gland in the middle of my head. Broken soap and cracked tacos are small stuff that I seem to sweat. The other morning, that little remnant was completely unusable, and I had a choice to make. To use Lara's girly-soap or not to. It's that girly liquid soap in a pink squeezable bottle that smells like mangos and tulips on the kitchen window sill in spring time. The other day, I decided that desperate times required desperate measures... So I used the girly-soap. I was out of my man-soap and had to smell like a girl all day. The good news is that I didn't have tacos for dinner. | |
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