I need to smell good. I keep deodorant everywhere and I am obsessed with new lotions, perfumes, soap, and all things beauty for the body.
Now, I’m not talking Force Field of perfume. No one wants to encounter that. We have all been in the supermarket walking along, looking for the garbanzo beans, and BAM it hits you. PERFUME! From where is that emanating? No one else is on the aisle? Seriously, they are in dairy and I am in canned goods and I can smell you?
No, I don’t want to smell that good. I just want to smell good enough. I would hate to overwhelm or leave the chemically sensitive gasping for breathe. This is not the idea at all. Let’s say you are standing next to me, I want you to think “hmm, she smells good.”
Now I am as fickle about scents as I am about books. I am constantly reading more than one book at a time. I have commitment issues. This is where my friends come in, both with books and scents. If you are a librarian everyone will give you books, all the time, regardless of the fact that they know you live in a one-bedroom condo. Now, this whole love of bath and body products, that is something you only tell your closest friends and blog readers. I mean how embarassing. This one wonderful woman that I have known since high school knows my love of all things bath and beauty, but she also knows I just can’t commit. I want to try different things. Have new experiences. Meet new scents. Date them. Wine and dine them. Okay, I am killing the metaphor. Point is each day may require a different flavor. (Oh there I go again.) What I am trying to say is that no one wants vanilla ice cream every day. This great friend gets my need for freebie hotel cosmetics, and has become my dealer, supporting my addiction to all things trial size. I got my most recent haul (or fix) while she was visiting the state last weekend. A bagful of goodies.
Small sizes are perfect. How are you going to know if you like something if you do not try it first? If I don’t like it, no big deal. I love these small bottles. I always have. Ever since I was a child, the first thing I would check out in any hotel room was the bathroom and its stash of soap and lotion. Thanks to my friend, I have tiny bottles galore from some of the world’s finest and just fine hotels. Boy, it is just fine with me. Thank you, Lord. Some bottles are exquisitely designed like those created by L’Occitane, and others modest, but hold singular scents that excite. Great things come in all sorts of packages.
Yes, it is all great fun, but these little bottles of gold also serve a purpose. They help improve my mood when I am down. I can go to my treasure chest and find something that strikes my fancy for the bath or shower. Also, on a more practical note, I am a modern working woman, hardly home, working late, off to board meetings or the gym at the end of the day. One needs to freshen up before a meeting, or take a nice shower at the gym. To guarantee nothing short of positive shower experience, I make sure I bring the best of my cache with me. Some girls choose their gyms by the shower gels in the bathroom, I don’t want to worry about the stalls and the saunas. It’s the equipment, tennis courts, and scenery (clientele) that matter. Or it could just be my obsessive need for control in
certain all situations. Kidding.
I am filled with gratitude for my friend and her acceptance of my crazy addiction. I suppose if I were to eat Pink Panther fiberglass insulation, it would not be the same on her end. Thankfully, though that is not the case. A calming bath with the scent that reflects my mood du jour (or the mood du jour that I would like to inhabit) is perfect for me. All I can hope is that her family continues to travel as often as it appears they do. Otherwise I will be forced to start stealing from housekeeping carts. A morally reprehensible sin, I would (and have) indulged to keep my skin irresistibly scented and in good spirits.