For your Pits of Despair

Is it my imagination or does it seem as though antiperspirant just isn’t doing the job anymore? As though we’ve become immune to foreign metal in our armpits. What once kept sweat in like a barrier of tinfoil, now just masks our perspiring underarms with floral, seashore, or powder fresh scents because clean no longer comes in “unscented.” 

But, lo and behold, the manufacturers have now come up with “clinical protection” antiperspirant. Of course, it costs two or three times more than the original, but it’s definitely worth it. Huge wet circles don’t appear under the arms of your new blue suit revealing inner stress for all to see, and you’re usually able to get through at least a couple hours of normal activity without smelling like a kangaroo left out in the rain.

While as Americans we are accustomed to paying more for anything that states, “New & Improved” on the label, I for one find this no coincidence that the old ceases to work worth a darn, and the new does the job so easily.

Conspiracy, you ask? Perhaps. Is it possible that they’ve been shorting us on the amount of aluminum zirconium tetrachlorodydrex they once mixed into our stick of powder- scented sweat blocker? I don’t know, but I’m sure the clinical protection brands will certainly put more people back to work. I imagine the more AZT they use, the more farm workers it takes to grow and harvest the crop, as well as extra people needed to bring it to completion in the factories. So, perhaps it was a government conspiracy to create more jobs. Somebody has to fold all those cute little boxes to put the new and improved antiperspirant sticks into. You can’t just sell the good stuff out in the open like they do regular cheap roll-ons. Special graphically-pleasing packaging is where the money’s at.

I was absolutely impressed and amazed at all the extras I got with the new clinical protection variety. The brand I purchased is actually “motion activated.” Awesome, right? So if I moonwalk across the room--which I can’t do--but if I did, my antiperspirant would kick on like a mule knocking down the pasture fence! Not only is it motion-activated, but it has microencapsulated fragrance that instantly releases freshness with each step. Just like a kitty litter box, but for human underarms. My antiperspirant also brags about having special skin moisturizing ingredients. Because everyone wants soft, moist, pits, right? Wait! Doesn’t moist mean wet? I thought it was supposed to keep your pits from unsightly, smelling wetness… huh…

Anyway, if you have been sweating like a pig at the office, looking like Attila the Hun is breathing down your neck, you may need prescription strength antiperspirant. Give it a try. It may be worth the extra money. And you can brag that you’re probably helping the economy in the process.

Leave a comment.

Marriage Therapy Roadtrip

My husband and I recently returned from a motorcycle road trip. We went south out of Minnesota, through Iowa and into Missouri. We crossed the border of Arkansas (to say we did), then turned around and proceeded to make our way back home.

It rained off and on nearly the entire time. We stopped, put our raingear on, rode through a downpour, then stopped and took it off again a few minutes later when it cleared. Not only did we manage to stay fairly dry through the process, but we also became awesome quick-change artists. I could probably change from a formal dress into a pair of jeans & a t-shirt while sitting at a red light before it turned back to green. You’ll have to take my word for it.

We saw some interesting things along Highway 63 in Missouri. A couple of guys looked like they were having a tailgate party on the side of the road. They’d pulled over, set up their lawn chairs and were sitting in the ditch facing traffic with big smiles on their faces.

Sorry, I didn’t get a picture of them. Wish I did. For one thing it’s hard to click photos with gloves on while riding a motorcycle, and for another thing, my husband doesn’t usually stop or even slow down for photo opportunities.

We also saw a small town post office that had a sign with a picture of an envelope rather than words. So, all the people who can't read will know where to mail their letters that they don't write. Not far down the road from there was a Geese Xing sign. I didn't even see one goose. In Minnesota we have lots of geese and no signs...well there are signs of geese everywhere...just not the kind of signs Missouri has. 

A kind lady took our picture in Hermon, MO

We spent one entire day riding down a twisting, wooded highway and only got a picture of the Welcome to Arkansas sign when we stopped to turn around. We met a man at a roadside eatery. He stopped to chat about motorcycles, how he used to be a trucker, and that the ice cream at this place was worth riding an hour just to get a cone. (I should have had ice cream instead of that catfish sandwich)While he talked, the ice cream dripped into his beard and down his chin. He didn’t bother to wipe it out much, just kept talking and licking. We didn’t get a picture of him either. I regret that.

We stopped in Mark Twain’s hometown of Hannibal, MO. Took a walk up the hill to a little lighthouse and apparently lost the key to my motorcycle while walking around. Somebody happened upon it and gave it to a woman that worked there and she returned it to us just as we were heading back to our bikes after lunch. God works in mysterious ways. I didn’t even know I’d lost it. We could have been stuck in Hannibal forever. I may have had to take a job as a saloon girl on a paddleboat or something.

When we came back down through the edge of Illinois, we crossed the Mississippi twice. Once leaving Illinois to get into Wisconsin and again on the other side. We didn’t stop and get a picture of that either. That would have been quite panoramic.

We got further into Wisconsin and things started to become familiar again. Leon recognized the roads and I recognized the bathrooms. Well, if you’d entered that creepy little dump of a gas station and smelled those stinky men sitting at a card table in the corner and saw the little emblem of a woman on the bathroom door where some smart aleck had put a pink bikini sticker on her, you would remember the bathroom too!

Suffice it to say, motorcycle road trips are a great way to strengthen your marriage. We ride separate bikes, we don’t have two-way radios, and I prefer to follow rather than lead. (Every husband’s dream, right -- a wife who gives him room, doesn’t talk, and lets him lead?) Of course, if someone pulls out in front of him or he hits a deer, I have time to avoid the mayhem. So, he’s also my handsome protector. And if he doesn't see me in his rearview mirror after two or three miles, he usually pulls over to the side of the road and wonders what happened to me. See--he does care.

After almost thirty years of marriage we have pretty much perfected the system.