Is It Acceptable for a Grown Woman to Smell Like a Gingerbread House?
The last time I visited Bath & Body Works, I bought this. You know, me, Christmas/Christmas, me. We're like this. (Cue mental image of index and middle finger crossed tightly in universal sign for inappropriate relationship between human being and holiday.)
It's one of those annoying 27-in-1 products. You know, I'm a shampoo, I'm a bubble bath, you can use me to wash your dishes AND your car, I'm also a dog shampoo, a floor cleaner and a cocktail if you add rum. So my plan was just to use it as hand soap and leave it at that. I don't like to encourage over-achievers. They can be so smug and presumptuous.
But this morning, I was out of my Aveeno shaving gel (of course - I'm always out of something) and I figured using the 3-in-1 Gingerbread Explosion wouldn't be a bad substitute. And hell, while I'm in here, I might as well just use it as a shower gel, too. But not the shampoo - NEVER the shampoo. My stylist would take out a hit on me if he found out I did that.
And now, as I march around, doing Saturday chores and running Saturday errands, I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see a giant gingerbread man following me. (Note to self: Must. Stop. Eating. Dog. Tranquilizers.)
In our sexuality textbook, the authors wrote something about men finding the scents of doughnuts, pumpkin pie and black licorice most arousing, so if I want to attract a bunch of weirdos who were interviewed by the authors of a human sexuality textbook, I guess I'm all set. (Gingerbread being in the same neighborhood as pumpkin pie, I think.)
So, what's the rule, anyway? WWAWD? That's "What Would Anna Wintour Do?" for you non-Vogue readers. My hunch is, she'd rather be doused with fake blood (which, you know, she should be used to by now) than dip her limbs in anything smelling like gingerbread. I guess I have my answer.
Signing off, with much shame, Teacher "I'm really a human, not a Christmas decoration" Lady.