Clingvia Daily Prompt: Cling

The following is meant to be humourous.  My son tells me it comes across as angry. not my intent. maybe try reading it in the voice of a favourite comedian. I like Amy Schumer.


As a youth I worried about static cling.

I also worried about itchy scalp and tell-tale dandruff flakes on my shoulder. I didn’t want dish pan hands, I wondered what ring around the collar was and knew that “morning breath was the worst breath of the day”

Between cartoons and secretly watching Dukes of Hazzard (a program forbidden in our house which only made it more appealing) I absorbed wisdom’s handed down through the screen by product spokespersons. In grade four I worried so much about dandruff that I would not scratch my head no matter how itchy. If I forgot and absent-mindedly touched my scalp I would panic. Checking my shoulders, rapidly brushing off invisible flakes.

I watched commercials for deodorant but didn’t know what it was because the actors never really put it in their arm pits. I did not know what feminine needs were because again they were never actually shown on camera. When I inquired, my parents would assure me that these were things for grownups. When the time came that I should need them I will know. Okay I shrug, fair enough.

Ah, those days of innocence. When body odor was implied, menstruation was a mystery and toilet paper was made from kittens. I long for those days.

Today I find myself wondering “Why am I being shown a close up of toenail fungus!” I quickly  change the channel only to be assaulted with a British women talking about “the go” in public bathrooms “man on the street style.” I wonder “if we have come this far in my life time what vulgarities will my kids look at?”  We are practically in the bathroom stalls now, how long until we go all the way?

I  can recall an old ad for hand moisturizer where the product is applied to a dead maple leaf, reviving it, making it soft again. As a child, who had not yet experience dry skin, I understood the point. However as an adult I am literally watching close-ups of dead skin being sluffed off someone’s foot with a sander. Why? did I get dumber?

I know my body is gross, I get to deal with it everyday. The thing is I keep it to myself the way god and my mother intended. And while I am grateful for products which make me less stinky and less fungus-ie I don’t believe I need to witness strange feet in various states of nastiness to know that I need them.  Sometimes less really is more.

BTW – Kittens are not so cottony soft. I learned that the hard way.

Kitten Soft