Beautiful (just a day in the life of me)

 

 Back in the day my Dad would bring home promotional product samples he was supposed to be sticking in mailboxes along his route. I'm pretty sure he was committing a crime, but I was a kid. I didn't know. 

He once handed me a jar of Noxema and told me I should wash my face with that. Um, okay. Like I said, I was a kid, with healthy kid skin. But if Dad said I should try it, sure. Dad wasn't a gift giver so I felt I had to use it to show my appreciation, and, just in case he brought home something really cool, like chocolate or a Beatles record, he'd remember I was the grateful daughter.

I stood before the mirror in our tiny bathroom and opened the jar. It had a strong, medicinal odor to it and looked like the school paste my cousin like to eat while watching Saturday cartoons. I scraped a big lump of the paste and slathered it on my face. It had a bit of a burn to it, but I rubbed it in then rinsed it off and admired the reddish hue on my cheeks. Boys loved girls with rosy cheeks I was told by our thirteen year old neighbor who wore a c-cup. Even I knew they weren't looking at her cheeks.

Every morning, before school I would scoop out a blob, rub and rinse. This routine went on for a few weeks until there was nothing left to scrape. Dad never offered me another jar. Ah well, I think this jar did the trick. I could feel my preteen skin was tight, so tight I could barely smile. 

I was bummed because no one ever mentioned my glowing skin. One classmate looked at me oddly one day and asked if had been to Florida recently? 

Huh? Florida? Why would she think that? When I got home I ran to the bathroom and took a good look at my face. Hmm, I do look a bit brownish. My rosy cheeks were no longer rosy, but looked more like the old neighbor lady's crepey, wrinkly skin. 

I grabbed my school bag and rummaged through it, looking for the things I detested most, my eyeglasses. I absolutely hated them, and refused to wear them in school. Pulling them out, I stuck them on and returned to the mirror.

Oh. My. God. I could now see the brownish buildup of layer upon layer of Noxema soap. I touched my cheek and started to scrape off an area of hard, dirty goop. 

I was mortified. I had been walking around like this for what, weeks!? I grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed until my face was raw. Thanks, Dad.

A few months later he came home with a large box. My Mom just looked at him and walked out of the room. She wanted nothing do with it. It was another popular skin product packaged in cute little bottles. There must have been at least four dozen bottles. They sat on the kitchen table for several days until Dad moved the box into the garage where they stayed for a year. 

It was Summer vacation and I wanted to buy the new boy band album before school started so I decided to have a yard sale. I gathered a few items around the house, then remembered the box of pink bottles still sitting in the garage. I placed all my items on a card table, made a pitcher of lemonade and waited. I read a book as the time ticked by. A few kids stopped by. An old man bought a few books, but nothing was moving. I had about $1.50 in the cigar box. I was about to give up when a woman driving past stopped and took a look. She nearly left but then she noticed the box of Oil of Olay Beauty Fluid.

"How much?" she asked.

"Fifty cents?" I asked back.

She grabbed a handful, paid and zoomed off.

Within five minutes a crowd of women came strolling, running, fast walking towards the box. Every single bottle was sold. Someone even took the box. 

Dad never asked about the missing items. Maybe he was glad they had finally disappeared, although, he still occasionally brought home promotional products like cereal and laundry detergent, but nothing as good as the beauty fluid. 

Having saved one bottle and not learning my lesson with the Noxema, I washed my face with regular soap, then gently patted my face with the moisturizer. Hmm, it smelled nice, but soon my face started to burn. It felt like acid was seeping into my pores. This is what women liked!? I quickly wiped it off and went into my room to listen to, "Oh, oh, oh," for the hundredth time. 

*Free image from Pixabay