“What you think you saw, you did not see.”
Men in Black lyrics by Will Smith

Dear Nice-but-Horrified Lady in the Next Car Over at That Stoplight This Morning,

About the alleged nose-picking incident; what you think you saw, you did not see.

For the record, I am SO not a nose picker.

I mean, I was a nose picker as a child, because what kid doesn’t enjoy a really good find up that particular treasure chest? And – sure – I tell my kids that when grown-ups say, “Don’t pick your nose,” it’s really just code for “Do that in private, and make sure you wash your hands.” But, Nice Lady, I am a grown-up, and I am SO not a nose picker.

Now, I will grant you that my finger made the trek up my nose, but I was doing something way, WAY more socially appropriate.

I was snorting Aquaphor.

Once upon a time, I had babies, and my babies had diaper rash. Red, dry, flaky diaper rash that made my children pathetic and sad. I bathed my babies. I cleaned them with wipes. And I diligently used diaper rash ointment, diaper rash cream, and, that cutest and kitschiest of baby shower gifts, Butt Paste. And, after all the cleaning and slathering was done… I had pathetic, sad babies with diaper rash.

Once upon a similar time, I experienced what we shall politely call some delicate chafing. So I used on myself what I used my babes. Baby wipes (oh, holy heck on a cornflake dipped in batter, that stung) followed by diaper rash ointment (which led me screaming into the flaming hot bowels of that eternal prison from which there is no hope of escape… yep, I’m talkin’ about McDonald’s Playland.) I didn’t like it very much.

After tearing through my house, discarding every diaper rash cream / paste / ointment / combustion material, and pleading with my babies to forgive me, I tried Aquaphor. Sweet gift from Heaven! Truly, the fairies who make Aquaphor use pixie dust as an ingredient, and then an angel descends to bless it before it’s bottled and sold. Aquaphor beckons me like neon Hot Now doughnut signs and soft kisses from baby lips; irresistible and perfect.

I was understandably loathe to give up Aquaphor when my babies graduated from diapers. After all, it was there for me during some pretty hard times; it didn’t feel right to simply discard it. Granted, my littlest kids help me out by taking a halfhearted, dare I say apathetic, attitude toward the thorough wiping regimen I resolutely endorse. Their wide-legged strides and attempts to avoid cheek-friction give me a reason to keep Aquaphor on hand. But it won’t be like this forever (right? It WON’T, right??), so I did some advanced planning to make sure that Aquaphor always has a place in our home.

I keep several small tubes of Aquaphor on hand at all times. I use it as a lip balm (FYI, NOT the same tube I use on the tiny hineys), a lotion, and, just today, on the insides of my extremely dry, cracked, winter-is-coming nasal passages.

That’s right. I snorted Aquaphor because I had to. And because I was being the kind of loyal friend that returns a favor.

Which leads me to this:

Lady, what you think you saw, you did not see. For the record, I am SO not a nose picker.

Beth

P.S. This is not an advertisement for Aquaphor, nor did they sponsor or otherwise pay for my adoration. I think I’ve made it clear, though, that if they ever need someone to give a good, old-fashioned, on-fire testimonial, I’m the girl for the job. Frankly, I think their only fault lies in their failure to make Aquaphor Healing Ointment for the Exhausted Mama Brain. God knows, I would buy it.