And now we return to more specious matters, i.e. thoroughly meritless musings. In a better world, the makers of women’s shampoo would exercise moderation with their products. My complaint is not that there are too many options (which there are), or that the containers are too large (and some are). I am concerned about the excessive fragrances used in women’s shampoo.
I know, I know, I am venturing too far here. What has this to do with me, you ask? As a man, this is a matter that should not concern me. If only this were true. Unfortunately, as a man, I am inclined to forget to replace my shampoo when it runs out. This leaves me with only one option—my wife’s shampoo.
From the moment I open the cap, I can smell that I am in trouble. As the soap lathers its syrupy sweet perfume is overpowering. It’s as though I am being beaten by an angry mob wielding overly ripe petunias. Achk, cough, wheeze…this much sugar has to be bad for you! Holding my breath, I recite my complaint to the shampoo execs, “just because you can condense the entire realm of floral scents into one bottle, doesn’t mean you should.”
Stumbling from the shower in a flowery daze, I am determined to reassert my mannishness. Pulling on my gloves, I lay into the heavy bag. Blow by blow, I am reasserting my masculinity. As sweat drips from my head, I can barely smell the shampoo. And then a thought strikes me…I am going to need a shower after this.