Today my mother has to get a mammogram. As such, she was told not to wear deodorant. The thing is, she works in a warehouse doing manual labor so no one wants her going without. No one. So she put it on figuring she’d just wash it off before she left.
Now, anyone who’s tried to wash off deodorant before knows that this is, basically, impossible. Knowing this, it obviously prompted the “did I get it all off” conversation. And when I say “conversation” I mean a rambling discussion on an epic scale. I mean, I love my mother … but the woman can beat the shit out of a dead horse.
I really hope she’s not reading this.
(And I know you’re wondering what brilliant idea I could’ve possibly had, I’m getting there.)
She drove into town so we could have lunch together. On the way back, I began to wonder if I had actually put deodorant on this morning. It was early, things were kind of blurry. I only know I put a shirt on because the evidence is literally right there. Since we’re in the car, I use the trusty “jam my finger into my pit” method of checking for deodorant. One pit felt like deodorant, the other didn’t, and neither one actually smelled like Old Spice.
At that point I had no idea if application had occurred or not. As a fail safe, I started rationalizing that I’d left it off in solidarity.
And then I got stupid.
I realized there was one fail safe way to figure it out, so without further thought I stuck my finger in my mouth. You know, since deodorant tastes horrible. Don’t ask how I know. Instead focus on the fact that my litmus test was to be “do I have a horrible taste in my mouth right before consuming food?”
Or maybe don’t focus on that either. Instead know that my tongue instantly went numb, signifying that I did, in fact, apply deodorant this morning.
Also, please note that my mother stuck her finger into her mouth too, since it clearly seemed like such a good idea when I did it. Clearly brilliance runs in the family.