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Wasn’t exfoliation something we did during the Vietnam War?

By Jason Offutt

The pore strip looked harmless, but less than a minute after my wife talked me into pasting it on the bridge of my nose, the strip slowly started to harden and, well, it hurt. It was kind of like what I imagine a James Bond villain would wrap 007 in before leaving him for dead.
Villain: Let’s see you get out of this uncleansed, Mr. Bond.
Bond: Egad. Pore … strip … tightening. Skin exfoliating…
Of course, 007 always escapes, usually with the help of an underwear model with great pores. I wasn’t going to be so lucky.
“This really isn’t comfortable,” I might have said if I’d wanted my wife to question my manhood, which I didn’t. But sitting in my living room with a feminine skin-care product attacking my face like the monster from “Alien,” I was beginning to wonder myself. What was next? Tampons?
In theory, the “pore strip” is a lot like a glue trap. When the adhesive strip makes contact with a mouse/pore goo, the mouse/pore goo sticks to the strip. You then pick it up with a newspaper/rip it from a sensitive area of your body, and throw it away. Nothing has crawled in the walls and died, and your skin feels cleaner. Everybody wins.
Of course, the pore strip box doesn’t disclose the fact that your nose will look and feel like a losing boxer’s.
“Who designed this thing,” I asked, poking at the thin layer of concrete on my nose. “The Nazis?”
“Just pull it off,” she said. “Stop being a girl.”
There are two schools of thought when pulling off a Band-Aid: 1) slowly peel it away. Sure, it’s going to hurt, but you probably won’t need skin grafts. And, 2) just rip it off and count your moles later. The pore strip instructions only list one of these methods, along with “Five stylish ways to stop the bleeding.”
If ripped off properly, the strip should be studded with nodules of gunk from your pores. My wife’s pore strip looked like a topographical map of the Sahara. Mine looked like a hamster.
Wouldn’t duct tape have been cheaper? I wondered as I stumbled into the bathroom, probably weak from all the bleeding.
Ladies, this is important. From a guy who cares enough about his hygiene to use soap, please, don’t try to clean your man. We don’t like it. With issues like beer, sports, cars, sports cars, and cheerleaders dominating our lives, empty pores and hair that smells like strawberries are not a top priority.
We don’t want baby-smooth skin. We don’t know anything about aloe, except, doesn’t it go on tacos? And exfoliants? Don’t you use that to kill weeds, or something?
So if you’re wondering what to get your man for his birthday, Father’s Day or any holiday involving explosions, leave skin out of it. Men already have a great appreciation for skin. It’s called, Playboy.

Jason Offutt’s column has been in continuous publication since 1998 appearing in newspapers and magazines across the United States. Follow Jason on Twitter @TheJasonOffutt.

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