I used to scrub my hands religiously with the blue Dawn Dish soap when I was little.
Granted, I was completely aware that it was for dishes and not for my small hands at the time.
Every time I would wash my hands with it my parents would shun me for using it. "That's for dishes," they would say. "I know.." I would mutter underneath my breath as my hands would become cherry red underneath the scolding hot water.
Did my parents actually care about my usage of the soap? Since they knew the soap was for "dishes" or were they repeating a mantra they had heard about how the soap wasn't made for "hands?"
My hands were never harmed from using the soap over the years.
When I use the soap now for any reason, the texture of it takes me back to the time where I would really only use this soap only for washing my hands underneath the extremely hot water.
Why did I wash my hands for so damn long under the hot water that I caused harm to myself? I mean, I still do but the Dawn Dish soap is out of the equation.
YOU ARE READING
You Don't Have To Be Perfect.
PoetryJust like how no body owes anybody to be "perfect", this book consists of not "perfect" poetry by me. The poetry in this book will range from poems that I wrote for assignments at school to just poetry that I wanted to write/wrote in my free time.
