I’m no Adonis. But like all men, I enjoy looking my best. However, it’s gotten to the point where I buy so many beauty products I can deduct them as a business loss on my taxes (a loss, because they’re obviously not working). Hell, these products even have their own room in my home. It used to be the linen closet, now it’s the “beauty room.” After using these different beauty aids in the morning, with all their different scents, I smell like a mixture of Hawaiian suntan lotion, the Grand Canyon mules and a doctor’s office. Such is my vanity, in and out of the bathroom.
My morning bathroom routine first entails brushing my teeth with my POWER-SANDER (my sonic toothbrush) and GRIT (my toothpaste, which claims to reduce cavities—so HOW did I get eleven?). Next I take my shower, using a beauty bar (it has NOT made me beautiful YET) and a shower gellee (the scent supposedly “causes” a state of euphoria—if I could get my $50 back for the 1-oz—I’d be euphoric—I promise!) to gently cleanse, without damaging, my skin. I apply a mint herbal shampoo made without animal testing (who knew that dogs liked to shampoo?). I lather, rinse and repeat. Then of course I apply an equally, but differently scented, coconut and pineapple hair conditioner (it’s as if I’m sunbathing in Hawaii. ALOHA!—but THEN I imagine the skin cancer—damn!). Afterward, I towel off. Not too hard, as I don’t want to damage my sensitive skin.
With my towel now firmly wrapped around my growing (too many shower-inspired Pina Coladas!) waist, I apply a gel shaving cream. It glides on my face—then foams—I look like a rabid dog! It has aloe in it. It has vera in it. Knowing that I shouldn’t shave too quickly after showering (my beard follicles must soften up first—OTHERWISE I will look like a rabid dog who just ate something bloody), I again take hold of my wand like power sander toothbrush and brush my teeth a second time. This time, using different toothpaste. This time the blood from my raw gums pores out and I DO look like a rabid dog. Still, I must continue to brush—it’s an attempt to trick my teeth into NOT getting complacent to one type of paste (they claim when shampooing you should use 2-3 different types—I’ve decided to apply this theory to my toothpaste, my sex life, my rubber sheets). This time I opt for the toothpaste that was NOT created by a famous artist—but STOLE his name—DaVinci (that’s why the Mona Lisa was NOT smiling—she used his toothpaste and ALL her teeth fell out!), to make my teeth pearly white (it has ACID in it to remove the plaque). Hope it works, it costs as much as a DaVinci painting (but I HOPE after using it, it’s NOT my Last Supper with teeth!). While brushing this time, I pay special attention to my NOW bleeding gums and blood-coated tongue so my breath will smell like a “Fresh” kill. Soon, I will have such white teeth and wonderful breath people will flock to date me. And vultures will flock above, expecting to eat my leftover kills.
Speaking of kills—now I’m ready to KILL some germs. So I rinse my mouth with a mouthwash that used to claim it killed gingivitis—but now just claims the SMELL kills dates—and the taste KILLS your sexual appetite & taste buds. My mouth tastes like the medicinal end of a doctor’s needle (meaning, rubbing alcohol mixed with fear mixed with pain mixed with…blood from my gums!). Finally, my breath smells sterilized. Time to shave.
My new battery operated ALMOST-ELECTRIC-SHAVER glides smoothly and nimbly across my face, removing hair stubble along with shaving cream. Afterward, I rinse the blade, put on more shaving cream, glide, rinse and repeat. After five minutes of this, all the while being careful not to cut myself, I rinse off the remaining shaving cream from my face, HOPING throughout this tortuous ordeal, that this cutting off the hair at its roots, will stop the damned stuff from growing back on my chinny chin chin—but it ALWAYS comes back.
Still not done, I apply astringent to my entire face (which smells like, well, mouthwash!)—but mine claims to reduce blackheads and pimples—IF only it would reduce the hair on my chinny chin chin. After cutting myself with the razor, it burns like a warm knife going through butter. No pain. No gain, I say. “Oh, this is agony!!!” I say, “Now I know why women HATE to shave!” Guess I GAINED some perspective on women.
Speaking of women—I have my EYE issues too. But I don’t like putting on stuff to cover them up—eye liner, tints, tattoos, glasses. Instead, I apply some Oil of Old Lady to lift & separate my eyes—so the crow’s feet don’t look like flat feet! Then I apply the Retin A to make me feel young—even if the wrinkles don’t go away—well, look at me, I can waste hundreds of dollars on a whim—JUST like when I was a kid and didn’t understand the value of a dollar—WOW! I feel so young! It works!
Lastly, I apply a musk scented shaving balm to rid myself of those razor bumps (commonly known as PIMPLES IN HIDING) and TRY to PREVENT the stubble from growing back on my chinny chin chin. Again, I’m feeling the burn—but that’s good, right? Athletes say it is.
Finally, the burning lessens and I’m finished with my face. Now, I spray on some Vanilla Licorice cologne on my chest (it smells good enough to eat—I hope!) and swipe my underarms with the matching deodorant (hopefully, they’ll be on the menu too!).
I know I’m done when I am bleeding from ALL of my orifices (pores are orifices of a sort, aren’t they?), my entire body and face feels like it’s a pin cushion for an acupuncturist and I smell like a French whorehouse (so many scents, so little time).
So it goes every morning…and yet, I’m not done. Next, I must fix my hair. Where is my Rocky&Bullwinkle mousse? Should I use my ceiling fan, window fan, or hand-fan to blow-dry it today? Use a brush, a comb, a pick, or just shave it all off? How about using that leave-in conditioner, the GROWHAIRBACK tonic (that doesn’t work!), or misting it with my plant sprayer to help it shine (it works on leaves)? Or, maybe, I should just start all over and dye it with RIT. If I do that, I’ll have to rework my face. Oh, well; such is the price of beauty—it's the cost I pay for TRYING to stave off ugliness!
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