During a half-awake shower this morning, I came to the firm conclusion that my toe hurts (a lot) and the use of animals in testing bath supplies should be ceased immediately.
One conclusion led to the other, but it took me a little while to devise how to shape my argument against animal testing in relation to me, my shower this morning and my now-swollen toe. I’m a pretty “green” guy. Not envious and I do not consider myself “pretty.” I’m for the preservation of planet Earth and its inhabitants. I make a conscious effort to refrain from littering, throwing away recyclable goods and peeing in the pool.
While peeing in the pool does not directly harm the environment, it does dirty the pool. The dirtier the pool is, the more chlorine it requires and chlorine is very bad for the environment. My continuous search for knowledge led me to an ongoing survey collecting data about pool peeing. Of the respondents, 70% admitted to “peeing in a public pool” at least once and over 50% said they do it “quite often” or “every time I swim.”
Kind of takes the fun out of swimming, huh? High-dive into that.
So, I have added a new green initiative (not supporting animal testing) to my expanding list of “conscious efforts” and to help combat the environmental effects of blatant disregard for under-water etiquette.
If your eyebrows are sore from looking at this page and wondering where my point is, it is below – hiding among letters and punctuation marks.
During my piping-hot shower this morning, I scribbled Axe body wash on my white, or “upper-body,” loofah and lathered my face, arms and torso liberally. I blinked a couple of times and edged some of the bubbles from my eyes so I could see enough to reach for my blue, or “lower-body,” loofah. Just as I squeezed the bottle and began to scribble another soap spiderweb across my blue loofah, I heard the muffled wet exhale linked to every soap bottle’s finale and what people sometimes acquaint to something else. (I wish I knew how to write that sound.) Uh-oh! Time out.
OK, I just made myself laugh. Time in.
I threw my Axe away and picked up the Old Spice Red Zone I recently purchased against Meg’s advice to buy organic. I popped open the plastic lid, noted the extremely large diameter on the soap hole, turned it over and dumped a commercial-sized glob onto my blue loofah.
When I say “commercial-sized” I’m not referring to commercial use. No, I’m referring to all the commercials you see on TV where the person showering feels it necessary to build a mountain of soap, capable of dwarfing most dog poops, on their loofah.
Now, understandably upset from using a third of the shower gel on my first squeeze, I turned it over to close it. Using my loofah hand, I clicked the lid shut with just enough force to disable the apparently under-tested, shower-safe grips on the sides of the container. Allow me to introduce my toe to the last bottle of Red Zone I will be purchasing.
The bottle landed with what felt like the force of ten Chuck Norris stomps on my right-foot’s big toe.
Hey! Here it is, my point!
Animal testing could never alert P&G to the obvious flaw in their package design for Old Spice Red Zone shower gel. Mice and rabbits do not shower like humans do and don’t hold the soap container with one hand – they lack the gripping ability of the modern man (I’m not sexist, but how many women do you know who use Red Zone?). In addition, mice, rabbits and most rodents do not wear makeup, so testing cosmetics by hastily applying it to their eyes, ears, fur and skin is totally ridiculous.
We’re trusting the safety and use-ability of everyday products to lab testing performed on helpless creatures lacking many of the physical characteristics that humans have. I say we use clones. A clone could communicate to P&G the need for attaching a neck strap to the lubricated bottle of Red Zone now laying broken on my bathroom floor (innuendo) and that the only thing it gave me for eight-hours was a limp – not a fresh scent.