Dear reader, I’m writing you today with a bit of a curiosity.
When you were a child, did you observe the rules of propriety? Did you respect the privacy of others?
Or,
Did you ask inappropriate questions only to be scolded later by your parents?
Or,
Did you sneak around, exploring the hidden world of adulthood?
For some dudes I knew it was a question of finding and enjoying their father’s or uncle’s noodie magazines - this wasn’t me.
For some other young people I knew, stealing booze from their parents liquor cabinets and filling the bottles with water was one of these escapades.
Again, this wasn’t me, though I did get blamed for that one. Perhaps dear reader, I’ll write more about that at another time.
No, for this troll, I loved exploring the hidden treasures of the medicine cabinets and under sink vanities of any house I went into.
These places were a wonderland of personal care and curious discoveries.
Indeed!
How shocking was it to find gauze pads with peel and stick backs.
Were they bandaids? What kind of wound were they for? You’d have to be cut pretty badly to require such an item. My mind raced to wartime scenes of bullet wounds and large knife slashes and gashes gushing with blood.
Either way, with a name like Maxi pad, they had to be for a VERY BIG WOUND - or so I thought as a small child.
Equally fascinating were the round telescopic paper tubes stuffed with cotton on a string. These little doo dadds looked like little white mice when you soaked them and they swelled up.
And the sliding white cardboard tubes? I loved pretending that they were trombones. I’d make trombone sounds while sliding them up and down and up and down.
Sad trombone whomp whomp?
No way, I was playing jazz!
Equally jazzy and no less odd were the packages I found that looked like ancient warriors. I didn’t know what a ‘Trojan’ was, but they sure looked powerful.
And ribbed?
These things had ribs?
Ribs were delicious.
I loved pork ribs as a child so I couldn’t help myself. I had to open at least one - just to see how it tasted.
Imagine to my dismay as I ripped open the package to find a white, oddly shaped balloon.
And when I put it in my mouth?
It was disgusting. It tasted all medical and chemically - not at all like delicious, greasy pork ribs.
It was all rubbery and weird and rolled up funny.
I unrolled it to discover that it was much like some sort of old balloon that was left under a bed and forgotten only to be discovered weeks later all misshapen and distorted.
Of course, I had to see what I could do. This was at my friend Ryan’s place. I blew it up and took it out into the family room. I still remember how red Mrs. Johnston’s face was when Ryan and I were using it to play ‘keep it up’ when her sister was over for a visit…
The oddest thing I found were little tin wrapped wax pods. They were called Preparation-H.
My mind raced - what is a hemorrhoid? What is a suppository? Why are they wrapped in foil? How do they taste?
Now dear reader, this must be a bit much to assume the whole ‘how do they taste’ thing…
But I was that kid that ate glue, not on a dare, but because I actually liked the taste of white glue. The modge podge stuff with an application stick? That was especially delicious.
All of my pencils were chewed up.
I’ve gnawed away entire erasers.
The Freude dude would likely have field day with me.
But then again?
I likely wouldn’t be caught dead alone in a room with that guy. He liked his cigars a little too much for my tastes…
But that dear reader is a digression.
As for those individually wrapped waxy pieces of wonder?
Yes, I did taste a Preparation H suppository.
I loved the texture but the taste was not to my liking.
This particular little adventure took place in my Nanny and Granddad’s medicine cabinet. No one knew. I was never discovered. And at the time, that was a relief.
Not long after my medicine tasting however I soon learned what a suppository was for. I overheard some adults discussing hemorrhoids.
My life changed forever.
This happens? Angry, blown up blisters INSIDE YOUR BUTT?
Nothing could be more disgusting, harrowing or awful.
I mean, really?
Ew.
Though this new knowledge didn’t keep me from exploring under the bathroom sinks of every home I entered, it certainly made me a little more wary about what I’d put in my mouth.
And at the time, I remember thinking: Bumpy, itching, bleeding bum? No thank you. This will never happen to me.
But if you’re a regular reader, you’ll well know that I’ve spent much of my time recently engage in ultra long distance off road cycling.
My life has been filled with bumps. Though many of them are on the trails I ride, others have been transfered to my arsehole.
Preparation H?
Though I didn’t like the taste as a child, the consistency still is quite wonderful - soothing really.
Now though, I sometimes wonder and worry - what will my children think when they lock the bathroom door and discover the secrets of private lives under the sink.
We all keep things locked away, hidden from the light.
And when others are in your home, locked into the temples of you most humiliating privacy, you can never be sure they aren’t going through your medecine cabinet.
Nothing is sacred.
And those precious secrets you most want to hide from the world?
We all know the truth of your bleeding arsehole.
