It's important to remember that this article was written at a very different time in American History, a time when it was normal to go outside and even do things. Keep that in mind.
Sincerely,
James
Some Thoughts on Those Little Plastic Bubbles in my Body Wash
Or
How I Won a Political Cause in 7 Seconds
Has this ever happened to you? You’re talking a shower or in my case bath, when suddenly the thought arises, “What the hell are those little plastic beads doing in my body wash?”
Monday, I got home a bit late from school after waiting for Corey at the ferry terminal, who provided me with some company and conversation on my commute from to Staten Island. My trip, which clocked in at a total of about 2.5 hours, left me rather tired and in need of relaxation, so after shoving down four Oreos and a quarter loaf of surprisingly delicious whole wheat Italian bread from Frank and Sal’s Delicatessen, a Staten Island favorite, I decided to take a warm bath. Over the course of the last few weeks, the bath has become a routine part of my life due to its benefits in treating a medical problem I have developed (more on this in another post).
As somewhat of a side note, I’d like to mention that to anyone out there not taking baths, I recommend them highly and can tell you with the utmost certainty that even if my medical problem does subside (fingers crossed), they will remain a staple of my health and body care routine. When I sit in that bath and the hot water rises, engulfing every part of my body, with its warm, soothing touch, what I’m left with is a satisfaction, so deep, so pure, I’m prone to having a kind of existential crisis. “Where have you been my whole life…?” I’m talking to the bath here.
Also, if you’re a man, who’s not taking baths because of some perceptions you might have about gender, my pity for you is boundless and I implore you to reconsider the spineless way you are enslaved by gender norms, even in the privacy of your own bathroom. These lines drawn in the sand are taking away a great deal of potential satisfaction from your life.
In recent times, I must confess that due to a reoccurring problem I’ve had issues resolving, my baths have left a little to be desired. It all started about a week ago, when after filling the tub and adjusting the temperature to my preference, I lay idly, thinking nothing could disturb my bliss. But when I opened my eyes, I was treated to an unsightly surprise. There, floating in the water, were little white clumps, not much different in size, color, or texture, from the clumps you might find in curdled milk. Needless to say, I was disturbed. Were these body fluids? Remnants of my own filth? How long had it been since I cleaned the tub? I didn’t think it had been too long. Wanting to reacquire the same bath quality I had previously enjoyed I decided to tackle the problem head on, so I threw some soap in the tub and got to cleaning.
The next day, after filling the tub and adjusting the water temperature, I was finally ready for the perfect bath that had eluded me the day before. You can imagine my dismay when, lying there, I was once again greeted by the same unappetizing curds floating tauntingly just below the water’s surface.
That night, something occurred to me. I had been using the bath downstairs in my grandmother’s old apartment. She passed away last year. Perhaps the body wash, also hers, was beyond its period of effective use and the white curds were simply residue, which had failed to mix with the water and soapify. Seemed like a long-shot, but I was open to anything.
The next day I washed out the tub thoroughly and made myself a bath. Before I got in, I checked under the cabinet and found another bottle of body wash. I got to soaping. To my great pleasure, there were no curds to be found. But there was still a surprise. Those tiny little plastic beads in my body wash… It wasn’t that I was really upset by this development, rather that it roused my curiosity. Although I will admit that I was slightly scared, be it unreasonably, by the prospect of one of those beads floating its way into my penis hole, and thus steered clear of cleaning my genital area.
When I got out of the bath I went over to my computer to do some research. What were these beads supposed to do? It turns out that the primary purpose of microbeads is to exfoliate your skin. But I learned something else from reading this article that angered me immensely:
Despite the wonderful exfoliating powers of microbeads, they do a lot of harm, particularly to the environment. When microbeads flow through our sewage systems, they aren’t filtered out and so they end up back in our water sources, accumulating in our lakes and oceans. These plastic beads are hot beds for toxins and when animals like fish mistake the beads as food and eat them, the toxins have the potential to run all the way up the food chain, straight to your sushi.
After reading about this environmental nightmare, I could feel myself being moved to action. I was ready to get out in the streets and start marching against the sale of any products with microbeads. This was just another sick example of corporate greed, externalizing the real costs of capitalism on human health and the environment! My anger lasted a total of 7 seconds until I read that microbeads were actually banned during the Obama administration. It seemed my cause had been won and the planet had been saved. I just had to stop using my dead grandmother's extremely old bottles of body wash.