Replaceable You

Dear Irish Spring,

I have loved you for a long time - we have a long history together. I remember seeing the singing man showering in your TV ads when I was a little girl. He always seemed so happy, so clean, so carefree, so... in love. My mom bought budget brands so I didn't really get to know you until later, when you were my first boyfriend's favorite soap. I loved the zesty fresh smell of you when he leaned in to kiss me. I think I loved you almost as much as I loved his Mitchum Sport antiperspirant/deodorant. Your invigorating scent gave him the zing that he needed to get up and get going in the morning (he had the misfortune of not being a coffee drinker). After we broke up, I went a long time without seeing you. I missed you sometimes, but I was mostly able to put you out of my mind.

We rekindled our romance several months ago. I needed soap, and you were the only brand available in the campus market. I didn't realize that once we became close again, it would be so difficult to stop seeing you. You were irresistible - your spring-green color, your texture and foam, that unforgettable scent... I kept buying you, even when I had other options, even though you were outrageously priced. Little did I know that you would end up costing me far more than I ever imagined.

Dry skin. Flaky skin. Red skin. Irritated skin.

I know it wasn't entirely your fault. I used you in ways I shouldn't have, like the time I ran out of shampoo. You were all I had, so I turned to you, and you were there for me in my time of need. I took a deep breath, lathered up, and ran you through my hair. I know it was wrong, but it felt so right at the time. I didn't know you would rob me of my curls and strip away all my moisture and shine. I vowed that it would never happen again...

And I know you weren't designed to be a facial cleanser, especially not for sensitive skin, but you were just so convenient. I believed in a monogamous relationship. I didn't want to see anyone else. I thought it would be okay. I should have known better.

I guess this is my way of saying, "It's not you. It's me." I just don't think we're right for each other. I've met someone, and I think it's really going to work this time. I've fallen for an exfoliating cleansing gel with moisture beads. And my extra gentle 2-in-1 shampoo+conditioner with a burst of strawberry knows how to treat a girl's hair right. I'm sorry. I don't know how to tell you this, but I think it's time we let each other go.

Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I wish you all the best for the future.

Goodbye, dear Irish Spring, goodbye...