Dirty Soap

There is a lot to be said for a soap that smells good. There is a great deal more to be said for soap that don’t.

If the children’s shows, motherly exhortations, and hygiene courses I’ve been familiar with are all correct, we can be safe in assuming that the point of washing your hands is to make them clean. Rid of dirt, germs, and those other icky grimy things we don’t like to think about.

But what if the soap you use smells worse than your hands did before you used it? What if the subtle whiffs of that afternoon’s lunch of northwester coleslaw are a better alternative to the stark, powdery, elementary-school-nurse “flower fresh” aroma of the soap in the office restroom? Then you have a problem.

I had that problem last weekend. Feeling bloated and slightly shameful after a filling meal, I needed to wash my hands of all its reminders. But the soap was worse. Far worse. I clambered for a hand sanitizer in the car, but the only one I could find was the one I knew smelled like hot dog juice--not joking. Finally arriving at my mother’s house, I squirted on a judicious amount of her almond-scented liquid soap, which mixed with the faux flowers to form a sickeningly stomach-turning concoction. My hands were worse than clean. They were dirty clean.

I once used a soap that smelled so nauseating, I literally locked myself in a bathroom stall and franticly rubbed my hands on my armpits to try and neutralize the stinging scent. Tragic. My underarms smelled more “clean” than the soap.

Folks, you don’t want to be where I have been. Carry a tested bottle of hand sanitizer with you at all times.