Wash Your ****ing Body
There’s little that disturbs me in the world anymore.
Like many of you reading this, I cut my teeth on the last “wild west” years of the internet. Two girls with a single cup. The pain olympics (don’t worry, it was proven to be fake). That guy and the jar. Pepper this with the disgusting things shown on the evening news, and past a point you just grow numb. There’s nothing new under the sun. Nothing that can make your skin crawl. A Serbian Film just elicits a yawn, staying in your DVD player just long enough to turn it off.
All this shocking stimulation, all this weird gross-out shit, it’s nothing but shlock and bad choices. Everyone’s getting a pay check and a shameful actor’s credit. You? The viewer? You reach a point where the mundane becomes surprising. British Bake Off is suddenly high tension drama. Oh god, don’t even get me started on Pawn Stars. In all the years of exposing yourself to the absolute worst, it’s in the “normal” that dwells surprises. It’s “normal” that makes your heart race. You hold the smallest rituals-like bathing-sacred. Self care elicits a high better than any line of coke.
I’m way more terrified of my Dollar Shave Club box not arriving than I am a violent death. Small rituals like this-a fresh shave, a shower-they compose your life. They’re the certainties you individually try not to take for granted.
Until you realize you might be the only one.
How And Why The Fuck Do You Not Know To Wash?
It was such a normal day.
I was scrolling through twitter, simultaneously fighting my depression and feeding it. Twitter’s good at both. I decided to check the trending stuff because despite being numb to violence, I’m addicted to it when it’s self inflicted. I noticed a odd tag trending. Sandwiched between the ongoing antagony of our president and the deaths of thousands was “Gooch Grease”.
Like any American user probably in need of deep psychiatric help, I ignored the other two and clicked it.
Do you ever look back over your life, and see the mistakes you made? Do you ever sit back and wonder how you got there? Sometimes there’s an answer. Sometimes there isn’t. My clicking of “gooch grease” was the latter. I knew what it was-like warzone footage super imposed over puppies it flashed before my mind. The mind and the body though? Rare is it the two can agree. I clicked.
For the first time in years, I recoiled.
“Gooch grease” was a phrase in this tweet. I’ll let you read it in all it’s viral glory. And while familiar with it’s cousin “swamp ass”, gooch grease was a new abomination of bodily hygiene. Swamp ass was, and is, something that you inevitably learn how to battle. Maybe you use a sock with baby powder. Maybe you’re into ball spray (I swear they’re not cutting me a check). We’re all wizards of our own crumbling, achey flesh temples. Yet gooch grease alarmed me not because it was new-but because it implied it was simply more by being so much less.
Less washing, less caring, less basic knowledge of how to combat the scourge of oils and more that leaks from every orifice. Including shit. Literal feces caked between cheeks.
“But Jack,” you say, perhaps mildly alarmed I’m taking so grave a tone with this, “What does this have to do with-”
Do You Want To Walk Around Smelling Like Dried Nut, You Sticky Degenerate? Do You Want Dick Sores? That’s How You Get Dick Sores.
It’s said that cleanliness is next to godliness.
We’re gods that like to take a holiday every now and then. Pretty much everyone skips a shower at least one day a week. In truth, this is a good thing. Constantly exposing your skin and hair to chemicals (even if what you’re using claims “natural ingredients”) can fuck it up in all kinds of ways. What kinds of ways? I mean, what do I look like, Salon? Ways, okay? What’s most alarming about the chart included in that link is the infrequency with which men take showers. Men, on average, shower for less time less days per week.
It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal-until you consider that lack of personal hygiene can exacerbate issues from other “forgotten” health habits. Like changing your socks and underwear. Failing to properly wash yourself can lead to everything from a gnarly smell to finely aged genital cheese. Oh, and good old fashioned trench foot. Becoming the pirate captain of your dreams is as easy as never taking off your Nikes.
That’s before we get to the value of washing when you have genital herpes,warts, and wayyyy more.
Gooch Grease is but the modern example of how health classes have completely and utterly failed us. They showed us slides and instructional videos. They told us how and what would occur, how inflamed we would be. They should have taken the “Oz” method and beat us over the head with Soap on a Rope.
In an age with a literal worldwide plague going on, being hygiene conscious isn’t just a “lil’ suggestion”. It can literally stop you from killing innocent people. Do you really wanna be the person with dick cheese so rank and toxic it literally killed someone? Didn’t think so. Thus, I’d like to brings us back to square one.
Loofahs aren’t “Gay” You’re Just Bathing With Toxic Masculinity
It’s hella weird to me that guys my age are just discovering loofahs.
No, seriously. There’s real people I know who haven’t used a loofah in their entire life because “that’s gay”. I’ve zero idea how a colored bath sponge can be gendered or sexualized, but woooo buddy we found a way didn’t we? Let’s not forget all the simply amazing, hyper masculine names for shower gel. Who voluntarily wants to smell like tobacco?
Dudes, apparently.
It’s nothing short of mind blowing that we’ve gender roles and hyper vigilant masculinity so hard coded into our society that the simple act of applying fucking soap to your dick becomes an institutional hurdle. Then taking that total lack of knowledge, slapping it with capitalism and pushing products that prey upon our fragile sense of self. It’s every bit the menace of the beauty industry, but with names like “DRAGON HEART EATER” and “UNICORN FUCKER”.
So guys (especially you cisgendered het bros), I’m here to tell you something revolutionary. Something that can solve swamp ass, gooch grease, and the weird fact that your PUSSYSLAYER40K smells just like Herbal Essence at four times the price. Are you ready?
Just fucking wash.
Nobody is going to think any less of you for having a pink loofah hangin in the shower. Bro, if your hair smells like peaches? That’s fucking awesome. Who the fuck doesn’t wanna smell like peaches? My man mane smells like fresh cut summer flowers on a spring day (at least that’s what the label says). There’s nothing inherently gendered or sexual about self care, and wanting to feel your best. Fucking toss some bath bombs in this mother fucker and put on some Joji. Tell me that doesn’t totally melt away the work day.
But.
Take care of the basics.
Scrub your dick. Scrub your ass. If you don’t have a loofah, I know you’ve got a wash cloth. No, scrubbing your ass isn’t gay. Yeah, it’s normal for it to feel good gently caressing your rim. Cut, uncut-either way, pull your fucking sausage sweater back and caress yourself in a way no one has in months. Just mind the soap. Don’t use something harsh.
Because gooch grease and all the many, many varied reactions to how to deal with it?
That began and started because someone, somewhere probably failed their job in your health class. Because someone, somewhere didn’t think it was important enough to fund proper sexual health. Because someone, somewhere is directly profiting off of preying on the thin veneer of masculinity guys are forced to wear.
Wash yourself, and thus wash your soul.
Be well, be clean everyone.
-j