(Because you guys are way too freaken talented and can read backwards -)
When you walk into CVS or any local pharmacy supplier, there is a good chance that you will encounter a myriad of organic products. Similar to organic food, organic body products, are also overpriced, have been aliquot in small quantities, and packaged in a manner that seems almost haute-couture compared to the tacky bright/shiny acid green packaging of Garnier Fructis or the hauty bright red Old Spice deodorant (hopefully guys can relate to this more than Garnier.)
I increasingly find myself being paranoid when it comes to chemicals, mostly because of the International Union of Pure and Applied Chemistry’s (IUPAC) rules for naming the chemical compounds and molecules.
Legit, yo -
See, I’m not ignorant as to the significance of the chemical names and the large amount of chaos that it prevents as a result. The fact that there are rigid rules for naming these chemicals, enough to get you a good twenty-five points off your first organic chemistry exam, however, is reason enough to cause me to be intimidated by said chemical names.
Humans - whether we are the boons to the universe given by your choice of divine authority, or the product of sin, and/or are the remnants of monkeys - we are and have always been, the essence of all that is natural.
If not for societal restrictions, we’d be running around fulfilling our natural tendencies, which according to the high-school English assigned novel, The Lord of the Flies - includes us putting heads of pigs on pikes and carrying out the necessary burdensome tasks for our survival, (such as preparing food for consummation), only after we have done whatever we want to do for fun first.
Even in high school we are forced into being made cognizant of the interchangeability between the words “natural” and “human.”
Cell - Tissue - Bone - Eye - Nose- Arm - Leg - Neck - Plasma - Vessel -
Us humans function as a working assembly of one and two-syllable terms that are linguistically user-friendly - In sharp contrast ot the likes of chemical names such as, phthalates.
As topics of the natural tendencies/capabilities we possess as humans have become less taboo and more transparent to me in the process of growing up to my current twenty-one year old self, I now do not go straight to the same product I have been purchasing. I no longer pass the fancy intricate artwork seemingly hand-painted on that $10.99 4 Fl. Oz Moroccan Argan Hair Oil bottle.
I have resorted to buying the organic product, even if it means spending slightly more. Perhaps it is because of my time at the lab bench - a good amount of years that transcended adolescence and permeated the years marking my college-adulthood - whatever that means. Working in a lab made me so paranoid as to question if I was taking every necessary safety precaution in order not to develop some sort of malign illness - those skull and bones all over the lab no doubt have haunted us science research folk at one point or another.
After this summer in lab, however, I grew even more paranoid - who knew that was possible? It is probably because for almost every procedure I had to carry out, one of the scientists would chime in - “Remember - so-and-so is very, very toxic. Be careful!”
Suddenly being 21 doesn’t seem all that swell and dandy when no one takes responsibility for you anymore.
One day in particular I smelled something unusual. Without thinking I placed an unlabeled Falcon tube, filled with solution, up to my nostrils. Next thing I knew I felt a rush of air going in though my nostrils. Yes, I had inhaled. I inhaled a strong, rancid odor.
Sensitive to smells of all kind and alarmed to a degree surpassing the alarm that I feel after I have inhaled nail polish remover, I notified one of the scientists of my horrible lack of discipline- giving into my natural tendency of curiosity.
In his broken English, (expected - internationals invading all U.S. labs), I managed to parse out the following:
“I hope you didn’t inhale that! It’s Toxic…”
As a result, all summer, every single day, I scrubbed my hands until they looked like the hands of a seventy-year old women who had given birth to well over three children and who was also, quite possibly, on dialysis.
After that traumatic experience I now own olive, cactus, and almond hair oils, (yes I do have crazy curly hair), organic contact solution, organic dish-washing soap organic/Ayurvedic eyeliner, and organic face wash shampoos, and conditioners.
I’m not saying splurge and buy the $30 and up bottles. If the product is even $5 more than the brand you usually purchase- get it. Trust when I say that the natural route guarantees a peace of mind and those organic goods that emanate hippie vibes are well worth the investment.
Here is to #notbeingtheavergageAmerican = not being so filled with preservatives that you are the equivalent to a microwaveable meal and possessing skin that can glow in the dark from excessive cheeto-esque snacking.