Smelling pretty
Right now, typing on my bed, I have a clear view of my dresser. On top of my dresser is a clutter of makeup, half-empty tubes of scented lotion, and at least five bottles of perfume. In fact, I have so much girly junk that the countertop is barely visible.
Now it is rather obvious that I don’t use five different perfumes every single day, or moisturize my body every 10 minutes. It would be much more practical if I had just one tube of lotion and just one bottle of perfume. So why do I insist on purchasing such unnecessary things? The vain truth is that I feel prettier every time the cashier slides the credit card through the machine. Somehow in my mind, smelling nicer equates with looking nicer.
The other day I had forgotten to apply the three sprays of perfume before school. The rest of the day I was freaking out, worrying that I smelled bad. Worrying that I was ugly.
What is it that makes me, your average teenage girl, feel so vulnerable when I don’t have my armor of perfume on? Why am I so dependent on such a trivial thing?
I would say the media has something to do with it. I guess I’ve taken to heart the commercials where the girl who smells bad repels all the cute guys. Or maybe it’s the whole preteen drama where friends would fervently ask me, “Andrea! Do I smell bad? OK, if I smell bad, tell me. You promise? OK, I promise I’ll tell you when you smell bad.”
But I’m stronger than that. A couple of dumb commercials and a few stupid comments shouldn’t have such an impact on an independent, “sophisticated mama,” as my brother would say. Yet for some reason they do.
— Andrea Park