Torsgad December 15, 2022

Fragrance

    I’ve long been considered ‘flaky’ by my peers, but it became really apparent the other day when I massaged my eyebrows during a moment of contemplation at my desk and dry skin fell like snow onto its dark surface. “Hmmmm.”

    Earlier in the week, I had noticed that my not only wrinkly forearms, often hidden by long sleeves this time of year, had developed an ashy dry appearance too; I began to suspect there were other parts of my exterior I had too long ignored. 

     For instance, my chin and neck had begun itching soon after I got my beard trimmed at the barbershop; a trim so close to the skin that it was reminiscent of the new beard growth phase that many men go through thinking they want to grow a beard, then go back to shaving because their neck itches; this commonly happens until suitable beard length is achieved but many can’t tolerate it. I realized then what was happening, but thought just maybe, I had dry skin instead.

    My scalp itched too once in a while, but I figured that was because I wear a stocking cap in the winter having no natural insulation up there anymore. I’ve never needed moisturizers on a daily basis so my limited knowledge of them wasn’t at the top of my personal hygiene list; all I knew of them was related to farming. My brother-in-law Clair, an Iowa dairy farmer, used to use “Corn Husker’s Lotion” on his hands that I remember seeing near the handwashing basin in their farmhouse. Another product, he used was Kendall Udder Cream, developed for conditioning milk cows udders and sore teats, and had proved to be beneficial to human hands as well.

    So without doing any further research or asking my wife about it, I procured the first bottle of skin moisturizer in the grocery store that I saw with the words MEN and EXTRA STRENGTH on it made by VASELINE. The fact that ‘strength’ was all caps in bold no-nonsense font, and ‘hydrating’; ‘hydration’; ‘hydration’ was on its front label three times, subliminally solidified my decision that this was the product for me, as did the hefty but grabbable black plastic squeeze bottle with a sturdy flip-up cap; the huge red V on its front obviously represented Victory over dry skin. I was sold.

"This was the product for me."

    Knowing at the very least that, “A little goes a long way,” when I got home I took a tiny dab and massaged it first onto my eyebrows. Then with a little more, (maybe two dabs) I rubbed it into my forearms watching the dry parts disappear to my great satisfaction. Whatever leftover lotion I had, I worked into the back of my hands, and, for fun, massaged sparingly onto my neck where it had itched post-trim. I had chosen well.

    “WHAT’S THAT SMELL?” my wife said disapprovingly when I entered the room, her face scrunched up into a hashtag denoting repugnance, unacceptable, distasteful; incompatible. “Is that your moisturizer??”

  “Yeah ...,” I said greatly surprised at her reaction, even while I was keenly aware of her bionic sensitivity to odors. It was then I realized I didn’t think to look for the words “Unscented or ‘Scent-free’” on its label. Now I’ve gone and done it ... 

    “It’s not that bad is it, really?”

    Her facial expression hadn’t changed, not that I could see it hidden under the couch blanket that she had thrown over her head after her complaint.

    “It can’t be that bad. You’re joshing me -- aren’t you?” I said patiently awaiting confirmation. Getting none, I left the living room area dejectedly and went to my ‘man-cave’ office in the basement. Opening the lid on the moisturizer, I could smell a fragrance now that she mentioned it, but it wasn’t that bad ... Okay, so it didn’t smell like a freshly laundered shirt, or our laundry soap, but neither did it smell like cooked fish or a dirty toilet! Or canned tuna, dirty socks, or campfire smoke! ARGH!

    The lotion didn’t smell that bad to me but I’m rather insensitive to odors that she thinks should bother somebody with ‘real asthma,’ like would spray paint, etc. What bothers her, doesn’t always bother me; but I can sympathize with her and keep an open mind.

    Perhaps this moisturizer should have an odor particular to what she, if but begrudgingly, accepts as normal for me: like a dirty hooded canvas jacket impregnated with diesel exhaust, or denim work pants that smell like gasoline; maybe beer breath, or that ‘peculiar deer smell’ hunting clothes acquire during deer season with which everyone is familiar; or wet mittens, wet leather gloves, or wet dog would be just acceptable enough.

    I see Kendall Udder Cream comes in a peppermint fragrance.  
    “Mmmm-marvelous!” No. 10 mooed approvingly.

    Or maybe a renewable deer tallow or bear grease moisturizer.
    Now that’s an idea...