One of the things that tends to happen when you don't have fully functional brain cells is that you scrub your hair with harmful substances that have the potential to eat through your scalp - substances like body wash. This morning, for example, I hopped out of the shower thinking everything was fine, until I looked into the mirror and noticed that large clumps of hair and flesh had fallen off my head, which was beginning to turn green, and mustaches were growing on random parts of my face.
Indeed, I had made a fatal mistake - the ol' body wash/shampoo switcheroo, or as some critics call it, "being a moron." The consequences of this classic shower error are borderline deadly, ranging from temporary mild discomfort to 10 terrifying minutes of body-wash-smelling-hair. To save you the psychological trauma of having hair that stinks of a marigold-laden meadow, I will dedicate the rest of this column to getting you up-to-date on one of the most important inventions of our time: soap.
Many eons ago, during the days of record players and nuclear families, shower-takers used an old-fashioned device called a "bar of soap," which was a solid block of cleaning compound made of hardened cattle fat and stale cheese. For years, the baleful bar caused severe strife in the daily lives of millions around the world, as it posed a myriad of complex problems. For one, it was more slippery than a running back going against the Virginia defense. The scrubbing would typically be uneventful at first, until one would approach the southern region of the pelvis, at which point the slippery bar would fly out of the person's hands, pause in mid-air to do a taunting dance and then scurry into the drain, leaving the person doubled over on the floor while shouting all the worst obscenities of the era, such as "Silly gumballhead!" and "Cattle fat!"
Even if you were able to somehow hold onto the soap bar for multiple showers, you still had to deal with the whole shrinkage issue. Continued use caused the thing to shrink like an old piece of fruit, prompting the ominous symbolism theories of the famed Soap Bar Fatalists, an underground group of disillusioned marijuana growers who claimed that the shrinkage of the soap bar epitomized the decline of humanity. To the Soap Bar Fatalists, every shriveled bar of soap represented a lost portion of the collective human spirit, which was being gradually hacked away by the veritable wood chippers of the soap industry, who served only to reinforce the notion that every day marks one step closer to death, and that life itself essentially contains no more significance than a decrepit piece of short, curly hair-covered soap.
Although the Soap Bar Fatalists were widely spurned for their eccentric ideas and zany hairdos, their anti-soap-barist stance helped spawn the development of body wash, a revolutionary new form of soap that featured bottles full of mysterious liquid goo. At first, consumers were confused about how to go about using the newfangled body wash. Not knowing what to do, many poured the bottles' contents into their eyes, hoping it would seep into their retinas and spread to the rest of the body via the optic nerve. Others tried the ears, and some simply treated it like mouthwash, often delighting in its minty aftertaste.
Soon enough, though, the world's confusion was cast aside when body wash marketers began inserting directions onto the labels of their products. The detailed instructions basically remain the same to this very day, usually reading something to the effect of: "Lather it on. Rinse it off. Don't pour it in your ears."
Today, the body wash industry is nearly as varied and multifaceted as Dick Cheney's personality. It comes in millions of familiar, everyday scents, including African Lily, Crystallized Amber, Arctic Rainbow Sorbet, Bees' Milk, Odeur des Toilettes, Blood, Icelandic Moonflower and Baby Butter. I am currently using Axe Brazilian Hot Mud and loving every minute of it.
It is interesting to see the discrepancy between male and female body wash, as well. On the one hand, body wash geared toward the female population tends to convey a soft, flowery tone apparently in an attempt to whisk the woman away in a sweet-smelling cloud of angel wings. Descriptions on these petal-covered bottles typically read something like this: "Leave your skin feeling deeply hydrated with this gentle blend of moisture-rich vanilla bean extracts and mineral peptide microbead complexes. Enriched with natural yogurt protein and infused with oatmeal, this aloe barbadensis flower-based compound will re-connect you with your inner woman; you'll feel like you've just been caressed by a thousand babies' bottoms."
Meanwhile, body wash directed at the male variety tends to paint a gruffer image, making it seem like the soap is preparing the user for battle: "This high endurance combination of citric acid and lead will let you chokeslam dirt and odor away faster than an enemy soldier could get his head sliced off by a band of anti-aircraft target missiles. And with the musky, woodsy smell that comes with it, you'll have hordes of women sensually stroking your firm naked body within seconds."
Hopefully, this column has cleared up any lingering confusion you might have had about the confounding issue of body wash. Stay tuned for next time, when I reveal the truth about the difference between shampoo and conditioner. (Hint: There is none.)
Nick's column runs biweekly MOndays. He can be reached at n.eilerson@cavalierdaily.com.
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