So I’m taking a shower just now and it suddenly occurs to me that the little woman isn’t home. Oh yeah. When she’s home, I’m in and out of the shower, no frills, just the essentials and I don’t care what shampoo I buy or use. But today, today dear friends, she isn’t home. That little tiny tube of Obsession and in smaller print, Moisturizing Body Wash by Calvin Klein, was calling my name. Dear God, one tiny drop of that stuff and I smell good. Can you smell me from there? Trust me, I smell GOOD. No wonder she wafts out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. It isn’t her after all but ‘Calvin’ that smells so damn good. I kind of wafted out of there myself. See, I don’t use her stuff, not that she would care but I don’t want her to think I’m some kind of sissy or something, you know?
I counted just now; she has 19 bottles and/or tubes and/or jars of stuff in our shower. I have two sample bottles that I bought myself. Yes, sample bottles. What? What if I die suddenly? I don’t need to buy in bulk here when I could go at any second! Spend all my hard-earned money on shampoo? Silly. So, yeah, a dollar for a little bottle of Pantene and I’m good for a couple of weeks. It’s not like I have more than an inch or so of hair, for Pete’s sake. Shampoo lasts me forever. And among those bottles, tubes and jars are things like body scrub, body washes, volumizing shampoo, conditioner, facial wash, etc. Seriously? I don’t even think she sweats. I know she doesn’t get dirty.
And I just noticed, she has four razors. Four. I didn’t even know she had hair, let alone enough hair that she needs FOUR razors of varying dynamics. Apparently she must think she resembles a polar bear. I sense I should not mention this or even ask about it. She’s touchy sometimes. I learned a few years back that every girl on the face of the planet is not as pretty as her, and I should not say that one is even remotely attractive, unless it’s one of her daughters. Television in particular is just full of all ugly girls, (well, except for Olivia Benson; I’m allowed to comment on her, *thump, thump*). If you’re not past the age of 40, you probably won’t understand this until you are. I guess. I don’t have those issues. I know I’m cute as a bug. Older than dirt, but cute as a fucking bug. And now I waft, well, for today at least I waft although to be honest, I may have to buy some of this Calvin stuff for myself. But then again, that’s just asking for trouble. Once I start wafting every day, she’ll think I’m cheating. Better to just stick with my dollar sample bottle and leave the wafting up to her. She’s definitely good at it.