I am saddened to report the demise of the skin on Carmen's hands. Truly, her soft skin has gone missing, presumed dead,
You may lay the blame for the death squarely at the feet of her husband, for that is where it belongs. Squarely on the back of her husband, a most kind and honest guy who was only trying to help.
Cause of Death? Cheap store brand liquid soap.
I wash my hands about, oh, 100 million times a day. Maybe more. My hands, when they aren't typing, are washing something. Dishes, clothes, toilets, pretreating stains, scrubbing the floor, washing someone's hair - my hands are always in water. So I'm pretty careful with my soap. I use very moisturizing stuff, and the best soap that has ever been created is, without a doubt, Method's Peppermint Vanilla. Sold only in the holiday season, I buy as much of it as I can find at Target. One year, I got lucky and found 4 bottles of it at a cheap-o grocery store in Feb.
I may or may not have been unreasonably happy about that. I'll never tell...
Part of the problem is that I can't use heavily scented stuff because it makes my skin itch. And heavy scents mess with my migraines. See also: why I can't use most all hand lotions. So I'm fairly - it could be argued unreasonably, and I'll go with that - fussy about the soap I use.
(I'm also really fussy about the shower stuff I use, for the same reasons. I know. I'm not as low maintenance as I appear. I'm cool with that.)
So I know what I can use, what makes me happy, and I buy it. I had put my last three bottles out a few weeks ago. While shopping for soap for himself - because I'd forgotten it at the store - well, really, it was another one of those things that Wal-Mart was out of - my beloved took it upon himself to purchase an economy size bottle of drugstore liquid soap. The bright orange kind that I am convinced contains pure alcohol. And late at night, when I was sleeping, he brought this monstrosity of a soap bottle into my house - all 128 ounces of it - and he refilled each and every soap container. Every one was, at the minimum, half full of the gorgeousness of Method's Peppermint Vanilla - a light, luscious scented beauty that I prize for both its moisturizing capabilities and lovely olfactory bliss.
Did you catch that? He REFILLED my wonderful prized soap with his disgusting cheap man stuff. It reeks and it's drying.
Last night, my husband tried to hold my hand and, honest to God, he recoiled. "Your hands are so dry! You need some moisturizer or something!"
Thanks to you, my dear.
And I know I'm a spoiled brat. A spoiled brat with leathery, tough, MAN hands.