Day Seventeen

I should have gotten a cart when I went to CVS but I was so excited to be on an errand alone, I forgot. If I had, then I wouldn’t be standing in the shave and trial-size aisle juggling a gallon of milk, apple juice and a soda in my arms while trying to read the labels of five bottles of body wash that all look identical. Red with a blue title called After Hours, red with a grey title that said Swagger, red with a white title that read Show Time and on it goes.
Having truly settled in, with my all my sundries on the ground around me, I flipped the tab on the red lid and took a whiff. After I got through sniffing three of them, I deduced that they would be more aptly named bad, awful and intolerable. Yet, these sprays and washes are wildly popular with boys from middle school through young adulthood. At which time, presumably, they realize that showering is truly underrated and worth a shot on a steady basis.
As a kid, I don’t remember boys smelling one way or another. I assumed they smelled awful but I was focused on my own personal brand of neurosis about feathering my hair, tube socks and tinted Clearisil.
Now my son floats through the day in a cloud of body spray that clings to his clothes, hair and may be eating through the paint in his room as we speak. There is a layering effect gained through the careful application of body wash, body spray and deodorant. Entire countries have been brought down with less brute force than is contained in this triumvirate of personal hygiene. My son does shower every day but I am unclear whether he is actually dirty or just needs to get back down to bare skin so he can start the process all over again.
Faced with the prospect of choosing the wrong bottle, I phoned home. I realized I had been pondering this long enough that my milk jug is starting to sweat. I am also not entirely convinced the management wasn’t keeping a close eye on me throughout my indecision. By this time, I had picked up and put down nearly every product on the shelf.
Once on the phone, he huffed his way through an explanation that the grey label “Swagger” is the only option and then backed it up by sending me a text with photo. “The other ones smell really bad, mom,” he added. I took the high road on that comment.
What mother in her right mind would buy her twelve year-old son something called “Swagger”? Most pre-teens have enough swagger to last a lifetime. Although, I deduced, it was better than “After Hours”. We all know nothing good happens late at night. And “Showtime” frankly scared me.
He had been using this stuff for months, today was just the first time I had been entrusted with the task of purchasing it myself. So, I grabbed one off of the shelf and started to gather my things and moved toward the register. In a time when everything with my pre-teen was a battle, this was one small, painless way for me to come out smelling like a rose.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. sally
    Aug 28, 2011 @ 22:08:52

    Eating though the paint…OMG where do you come up with this stuff! I can’t get enough of Milesofstiles!


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Magnificence in the Mundane

Finding humor in kids and chaos is the best place for your personal blog or business site.

Magnificence in the Mundane

Finding humor in kids and chaos is the best place for your personal blog or business site.

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