He'd given up his evil alu deo weeks ago, after getting the memo 20 years too late from some prime time consumer watchdog segment that aluminum-based hygiene products are bad mmmkay, replacing it with precisely nothing, and has been no worse off for it-but I don't have that luxury. "Does it have aluminum in it? Let me see."Įyes rolling, I curtly informed him that the only thing separating us from the apes was antiperspirant, and likewise the only thing separating us from hippie scum was the preference for the risk of an early grave to spending one's entire life smelling like something that had died in a hobo's waistband during a heatwave.
Raising one arm up as a protective shield between him and that which he will never understand, I said, "Ummmm."īlank stare. Just as I'd decided to match a hilarious whimsical tropical print dress with black bowtie peeptoe rattan wedges, going for a sort of rockabilly tranny stand-up comedian on tour in Hawaii-kind of vibe, my husband came tearing into my room and made as if to start rifling though my cosmetics. Starting at the hottest end of the cool part of the day and going right through to the coolest end of the hot part. The high temp of the day was set to be around 40☌ and the wedding was meant to last alllll. I was deciding what I could wear which wouldn't leave me a suffocated pile of sweat and jewelry on the chapel floor of the wedding we were due to be at in a couple of hours, while husband was taking it easy, watching TV in the bedroom.
The scene: a relaxed, yet already sweltering Saturday morning in Berlin.
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