“I can’t stand myself!”
the guy next door says.
“Well, that’s a problem,”
I smirk. I know he’s referring to his having worked hard all day long and the
fact that he’s drenched in sweat, but I enjoy the play on words none-the-less.
“You don’t believe me?
Come here--if you really want to smell something gamey, I’ve got game!” He
assures me, lifting his right arm and taking a sniff.
I politely decline his
offer to smell his reeking pit. He’s voluntarily enlisted in what he calls my ‘Fat
Camp” for ten days—gave up precious vacation time to help with some heavy
lifting and trudging up steep slopes and flights of stairs. I never promised
him a rose garden and he’s annoyed that he doesn’t now smell like one.
GND’s a shower nut—he’s
got to have a long hot one at least once a day. The average American takes 8
minute showers consuming two and a half gallons of potable water a minute. Not this
guy. Nope, he needs another 22 minutes to thoroughly eliminate his gaminess. He’s
all man, this one is. He’d crawl out of his own skin from sheer disgust if he
was in a situation where he couldn’t immerse himself in half an hour of
pounding steaming water. He, like other Americans, takes several showers some days.
“I may have been born in
the South, but I AM civilized,” he explains. I believe him. He is not, nor
would he ever want to be, a trail “grubby” like I am.
I like to bathe as much as
the next gal, but I have a thing for water—a consciousness of water, or rather,
the lack thereof. I’ve lived in places where water is serious business. Here,
on the East Coast, people waste it with little to no awareness that the US
consumes the lion’s share of the globe’s potable water—most of which is used to
flush feces and keep folks odor free. With no awareness that there are parts of
this country that have no accessible potable water and have to buy it from four
states away.
To finish his daily toilet,
GND will use 75 gallons for his luxurious showering, another gallon brushing
his teeth, another to shave, and up to three gallons to complete his morning
constitutional. That’s 80 gallons a day at the minimum that this single man
uses strictly for his personal hygiene. And yet, he’s hardly the only American
who does this without thinking twice. Most of us will use another 100 gallons
throughout the day.
With less that 1 percent
of the world’s water being accessible and potable, it will never cease to amaze
me that we—an evolved and intelligent species—still shit on such a rare commodity
as if it’s our god given right to. But, then, we pour potable water onto pesticide
drenched golf courses and farm fields, too, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
Because awareness is
everything, I give the man grief. Also, because he drinks very little water
compared to that which he consumes.
“Ever hear that we’re
supposed to drink eight 8-ounce glasses of water a day?”
He tells me he drinks
coffee. And gin. And bourbon. I stare
him down.
“If I drank that much
water I’d be peeing all the time!” he says.
“That’s the idea, champ.
To rid your body of toxins, which is vital when you’re on a diet in particular,
and to lubricate your innards.”
He stares back at me stubbornly
wishing he could come up with a witty response to my ‘lubricated innards’ line.
But, he can’t so he just stares at me in frustration. I’m hard, he’s thinking,
unrelenting.
“It also prevents
wrinkles,” I add.
The ploy worked because he’s
now drinking water by the liter. And as he stands in front of me hydrating, literally
dripping, looking as if I had taken a hose to him, I note that he’s lost poundage.
“Yep, he admits. I gained
three notches on my belt!” he proudly shows me.
He can complain about me
all he wants, but he’s signed up for three more weekends at my Fat Camp, so I
can’t be all that bad. Or, perhaps he’s just a glutton.
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