Cracked and Bleeding

I finally gave in to the bottle today. I had lashed myself to the mainmast, all herculean and strong and manly, resisting the siren of the tender sex. But can a man resist to the point of shedding his own blood for his principles? Nay, friends.

This is a post about how much I dislike “moisturizing” my hands.

The softness. That sniveling, supple skin screams “milksop”. Other nettles abound, too. The oily traces of your wandering hands left all over your clothes, computers, stereo, barbels, whiskey bottles, flannel, woman, and other manly things that I frequently touch. The humiliation of going to the store and trying to find a bottle that does not proclaim feminized voluptuousness, nor will leave remnants of what appear to be, to my militarized eyes, radar-reflecting aluminum chaff upon your hands. Try it, I dare you.

Aveeno Lotion, Available from Amazon to spare you from the humiliation of buying at the store.I first settled on Aveeno Daily Moisturizing Lotion with Natural Colloidal Oatmeal. Regular bottle shape, no remarkable scent, and a pleasing, affirming, cowboy-approved oatmeal color and composition with no chaff. However, all is not well with my hands upon using Mr. Aveeno Colloidal Oatmeal. Oatmeal, upon slathering, doesn’t immediately merge with the hands. No, instead it sits on top of my skin for hours, reminding me of the henious act I have perpetrated upon my epidermis. In fact, the absorption was so slow that I could only use it at night, in the safety and privacy of my own bedroom. Dark oil stains appeared on anything touched (laptop, phone, keys, car, keyboard (!!!)) for hours after application. If Chuck Norris caught me with the kind of oily hands Mr. Aveeno Colloidal Oatmeal produces, a swift roundhouse would be the only fitting end of for a dermal weakling like me. There had to be something better.

Lubriderm Advanced Therapy Hand CreamAnd there was. Well, how about a less compromising product. It even fits nicely inside a brown paper bag. Lubriderm Advanced Therapy Hand Cream. Oh yes. Now we are talking. This stuff goes on like a Miami Vice suspect: nice and easy. It’s thicker, and best of all, Mr. Hand Cream finds those cracked, bleeding scales that compose your winter skin and melts in, never to be seen or smelt again. Aside from the preternatural effects common to products of this type which will be discussed in the next paragraph, there are absolutely no ill or unmanly results from using this product. Instead of Chuck Norris finding fault with me, now I will find fault with Chuck Norris. “Hey, Chuck, why are you grabbing my hands?”

Undoubtedly the worst part of the application of moisturizing lotion upon your hands is the unnatural, eerie smoothness that it brings. My hands are smoother than my butt. My hands are smother than, and don’t even think that I haven’t done an empirical comparison, a baby’s butt. In no other time of the year are my hands as smooth as winter. Dermal weakling. Barely a man. Humiliating.

Excuse me. I need to go put on my overalls and go chop wood. Because, “I’m a lumberjack and I’m o-kay. I work all night and I sleep all day…”

January 27th, 2008 | Life, Unbelievable