“That’s not lotion”

Kaety pointed to a little bottle with Japanese and English printed on it, “I think that one is lotion and that one is cream”. I looked back and forth at them, “What’s the difference?”, and then noticed there was a tester. I picked it up and squirted it into my hand right about the moment Kaety said, “Wait! That’s not lotion!”.

I was standing on floor 7 of Tokyo Hands seeking a replacement for my TSA confiscated moisturizer with a handful of baby oil. Like a lot of baby oil- Running through my fingers and dribbling on the floor lots.

We both just looked at it for a while sitting there in my hand. Action was required.

Without any discussion we both started wiping it all over ourselves, trying to absorb it through our collective skin. We swiftly realized that we were running out of socially acceptable skin and we were both glistening with oily slipperiness.

Leave it to the American’s to screw things up in the lotion aisle.

I figured time would take care of absorption, so I walked around for a while in the store and tried not to touch anything.


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