Original humor & comedy articles daily weblog

Too Many Secrets

Earlier this week, I ran out of deodorant. I found myself standing in the bathroom, with one underarm appropriately anti-perspirated and smelling of fresh mountain air, and the other… not. My trusty stick of Mennen was rubbed down to the plastic nub, no longer able to protect me from the tense and sweaty rigors of daily life.

So, I set off to the hall closet — gingerly, so as not to break an asymmetric sweat — to find another stick of deodorant. Which I found, sort of. Specifically, what I located was:

• zero sticks of men’s deodorant
• seven sticks of women’s deodorant

“I can’t personally vouch for all of my wife’s activities over the past few weeks, but I assure you I would notice a round of sudden and excessive panting.”

Now, my wife does most of the grocery shopping, which includes keeping our antiperspirant arsenal stocked. It’s certainly her prerogative to buy herself something nice and delicately scented for her pits. That’s my lady there. Nothing’s too good or too pH-balanced for her.

But I’ve never seen this sort of glaring disparity before. It’s remarkable enough that I have to believe one of two things have happened:

Possibly, my wife has recently stopped perspiring — not sweating, as ladies don’t sweat, she tells me — and I haven’t noticed. Maybe at some point, we each had seven sticks of deodorant, and I’ve simply used mine up while hers are collecting dust. As opposed to mine, which mostly collect sweat and odor and little curly hairs.

Hopefully, she doesn’t have some sort of medical condition or ‘perspire gland’ blockage. It seems fairly unlikely, though. I mean, my dog can’t sweat, and she sits around the house all day with her tongue hanging out. I can’t personally vouch for all of my wife’s activities over the past few weeks, but I assure you I would notice a round of sudden and excessive panting.

)Notice it, and be oddly excited about it. Especially if she also could scratch her ears with her feet or sniff my crotch at inappropriate times. Perhaps that’s asking too much.)

The other explanation is that she’s suddenly started sweating perspiring a lot, and now needs all seven of those deodorant sticks. Certainly, her job can be stressful — and she’s been pretty busy at the office lately — but if she’s going through three sticks of Secret a week, it might be time to think about a vacation. Or at least taking a towel to work. And maybe a mop.

In any case, I did the only thing I could do at that point. I found the stick of deodorant she was currently using, and glommed it all over my previously unprotected underarm. Then I wiped away any evidence from the top of her Secret, and nonchalantly walked away from the bathroom. It’s ‘strong enough for a man’, right? So why does it have to smell like lilacs and roses? Give me a fighting chance, already.

On the way to work, I bought myself some deodorant. Lots of deodorant. And when the drug store clerk commented on my ‘summery scent’, I went back to my car and rubbed on roll-on like a smelly, sweaty son of a bitch. Which I was, at that point. Yet still, I smelled like flowers and fluffy pillows.

You know, sometimes I wonder whether it’s just easier to let them see me sweat. Jeez.