I am a huge proponent and lifelong fan of all things girly. My favorite colors are pink and pinker, I love getting my nails and hair done, and I would happily sit through “Legally Blonde” or “Clueless” on repeat until the day I died. Being a girl is literally the best ever. Sometimes I wake up, tug off my “Quiet, bitches” eye mask, stretch in my Victoria’s Secret satin pajamas, and proceed to take a 45-minute shower (deep conditioning my hair, duh), just because I can. I love the sound of my own, high-pitched voice ordering a nonfat latte and gossiping with my sister over text at the same time. And yeah, yeah, I know that I’m on occasion a walking stereotype, but guess what? That’s my choice, and if I’m stereotypical then get me a shirt with that plastered on the front, because I own my own fucking labels.
However, even the most ladylike out of all the ladies (myself, I’m referring to myself) still has some features that are undeniably *not* precious. Like the fact that I still have to shave my legs every two days or my ankles develop their own 5 o’clock shadow, and that I sweat occasionally. I know, it’s disgusting, but, like, I can’t help it. Anyway.
So I was a cheerleader in high school and college (I know y’all are shocked by this news, but keep up pls), and as such I did have reason at times to get mildly sweaty. Okay, really sweaty. At a college football game when you’re on your hundredth back handspring of the day and it’s 92 degrees outside, there isn’t much that can be done about it. And what I found during these challenging times was that some of my favorite girly products just weren’t doing what I needed them to do. My deodorant, in particular, wasn’t holding up its end of the bargain. Judging with a more critical eye, I acknowledged that even on days where I was doing nothing but walking to class, it wasn’t working as well as it should. And I’m no ogre or anything. If there’s anyone who’s going to smell like nothing but peonies and glitter, it’s me.
So, the next time I went to the store, I took a little more time surveying my options. I looked over all the girl deodorant options, smelled each of them, and debated which would be my best option. As I stood there, one hand on my hip and the other holding my phone, my gaze drifted toward the men’s section, an area I was largely unfamiliar with. Boys are icky, right? They have to deal with things like ball sweat and that thing dangling between their legs all the time. Sometimes wieners are fun, but still– so weird. But some of the packaging in the men’s section looked, idk… cute. So I wandered over there and started sniffing, like any girl who wants her underarms to smell like pie or flowers, which is all of us.
To my surprise, there were more than a few that smelled amazing. One smelled like a tropical island and coconuts. One smelled like spicy pine trees–delicious, and not too masculine. And, the biggest ones were cheaper than the equivalent in the women’s section. Boys are smelly and gross, I reasoned, so… this stuff probably really works.
I bought my first men’s deodorant that day, plus a razor from the men’s section for good measure. It had four blades, came with replacement heads, and was cheaper than the female option, too! It wasn’t pink, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made for smooth legs and a budget severely depleted by Burnett’s and 2 A.M. fast food orders.
That fateful day changed my life. The first time I used my new deodorant, I kept sniffing myself throughout the day because I smelled so different, but so good. Somehow the brand that I’d chosen kept me smelling like a margarita and fresh ocean breeze all the way throughout that day and into cheer practice. I was amazed. Men’s deodorant became a staple for me, because it worked better, smelled better, and lasted longer than anything I’d used before. Same with the razors– those bad boys keep my legs so smooth it’s criminal.
I felt like a traitor at first, like I should be buying the lady products in pink or I was betraying my own sex. But then I realized that choosing what made me smell best and feel sexiest was pretty much the most female thing I could possibly do, and I stopped sweating it (lol, get it?). So, you know what they say: hate the game, bitches, not the girl who plays it better than you..
Image via Shutterstock
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Shannon Layne
My favorite things are tiaras, compliments, and free drinks, which are becoming harder to come by the more I tend to show up at the bar in sweat pants. The proudest moment of my life so far has been landing an actual, paying job that allows me to Facebook stalk people for a living. I tweet about my mom way too often, who is constantly trying to remind me that I'm not nearly as cool as I think I am. Please send me funny stories to read at work here: shannon.laynee@yahoo.com
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