Keeping It Zone-Specific
Near death experiences are no laughing matter. But the other day after an intense workout, I was in the locker room with a girlfriend who took out an aerosol can and hosed down her entire body, her workout bag and her locker with FDS.
That’s right. I nearly choked to death on va-jay-jay spray.
I’m not clear on why the entire area needed immediate deodorizing, or why she chose FDS as her weapon of preference. Perhaps she simply confused that shit with Febreze.
Emerging from the perfume cloud of powdered fragrance, all I could muster to say through my asthmatic inhalations and flailing arms was, “Girl! Isn’t that stuff zone-specific?!”
Contrary to my own reaction, the woman next to me meekly and encouragingly said, “That smells nice.” And went on to explain that her privates benefit from the spray she special orders from Costa Rica.
And thus, I — suddenly and without consent — entered into a Summer’s Eve Twilight Zone.
I can honestly say that I’ve never deeply contemplated the topic. Granted, I’ve heard ramblings of the good bacteria/bad bacteria discussion, but some things just don’t need to be announced unexpectedly all over the fucking locker room.
Call me crazy, but it seems to me that there’s a simple solution to such things. Like soap and water. (Lather. Rinse. Repeat, people.) I’ve always associated FDS as a curative solution rather than a preventative measure. I assumed it was primarily for geriatric use…for octogenarians too disabled to bathe daily and who subsequently suffer from hoo-ha halitosis. I figured I wouldn’t have to worry about it until a product coupon arrived from AARP or something.
But the locker room choke-off opened my teary eyes to the more wide-spread and socially acceptable use of feminine hygiene sprays.
That said, I have heard of common practices that can enhance the O-Zone experience for your lover. For instance, another friend – a vagina connoisseur of sorts – once told me that he found women with a meatless diet to be both scent- and taste-free. Not a theory I care to test on the giving side of the equation, but at least PETA can try out a new slogan: “Vagitarians Prefer Vegetarians.” I can see it now on a billboard near you.
I will confess to personally using one enhancer in this area, as I’ve been known to eat copious amounts of pineapple before a promising date – hoping for an indirect transfer of its fruity sweetness. Not sure if that wives’ tale truly works, but at the very least it’s a great good-luck ritual, and I’m getting my daily dose of Vitamin C.
So, truth be told, I am a pineapple-obsessed vegetarian who has been fully fumigated with FDS outside of its zone-specific designation areas.
I’m pretty sure THAT would make a nice update to my Match.com profile! But perhaps for now, it’s best to just let this particular self-realization float along in the feminine fog of the women’s locker room.