Wednesday, July 21, 2010
If People Came In Commercial Packages, We'd All Be Hung or Wear 40DDDs
Please excuse me while I discuss a few matters with the products in my medicine cabinet.
Really, Acid Reflux Medication? Do you think I'm not going to buy you to just because you're in a small see-through container and I can see that I'm only getting 28 pills? I can read, you know. Making the opaque container twice as big as it needs to be isn't fooling me. I know I'm being taken. But if it's a choice between being taken or regretting my morning cup of coffee, well hell. That's easy. Let's be honest with each other, shall we? You're making a big profit off my suffering and I'm willing to pay. The lies diminish us both.
And how about you "medicated powder?" I held your golden body up to the light in the bathroom and saw that right out of the Target bag, you're only halfway full. And the sticker still discreetly covers your holes so I know it's not likely that someone has been unscrewing the cap and stealing from you. Powder is messy, That's not really an asset when you're shoplifting, is it?
But again I ask, do you really think I would forgo you if I knew the truth? Would I prefer that my undercarriage (that's that place under my boobs, y'all) becomes a swamp while I work out? Of course not. I'm going to buy you and enjoy the refreshing zing! when I apply you because, goodness knows, there are few things worse than an under-the-boob rash. It's impossible to scratch in public without receiving the small mouth from some eagle-eyed prude or a invitation from some horny goombah.
"Let me take care of that, how 'bout it!"
At least if something in my panties itches, I can deal with it and claim I'm merely "adjusting myself." Works for guys, right?
But reach for your own boob and you're disrupting traffic.
The fact is that we have a commercial relationship. I have a need. You fill that need. You charge what you think is a reasonable fee and I pay it. If it gets too out of hand, then I go in search of the generics which means I'll be paying significantly less only to find the opaque container a quarter full instead of half full.
I don't want to love you, but I do need you. Okay?
The best thing about you is that you either prevent things or make them go away. Put another way - you're the bouncer to the increasingly seedy nightclub that is my body. Listen, at this stage of the game, I've got enough metaphorical guys wearing too much cologne and too much gold jewelry trying to invade this space. I know that it won't be long before I'm glad even for those guys because the new crop of losers is likely to be much, much worse. I'll probably look back fondly on a little boob sweat and acid reflux when the real horrors of aging hit me. But until then, can we at least honor our relationship with a little honesty?
Thank you for indulging me today. You know how these little things can build up over time. So, what is it that you'd like to get off your chest?