Those TV adverts where you smell so much like the best chocolate in the world that you BECOME A CHOCOLATE at the expense of all else. And as if losing all sense of ego to a Cadbury-based life-form ain't enough for you, you can look forward to being Eaten Alive by attractive women who would rather digest you than sleep with you. (Fortunately, according to the ads, fat and ugly woman just don't care about chocolate, forming a paradoxically attractive-yet-cannibalistic horde of women around you. Or maybe that's just Milton Keynes for you. Who Can Say?)
It's come to my attention not-so-recently that under-arm deodorant is a small yet major player in the global conspiracy to keep us from realising Our True Selves. In terse terms, it is a scam, and a sham, and should be exposed for the snake oil it truly is. Moreover, it strikes at the very heart of our very hearts. For, through those insidious forms of advertising that seek to stigmatise our own bodily functions, we are trained into becoming prisoners of sweat-tastic guilt of Epic Proportions.
Ladies and Gentlemen, there is nothing wrong with a good bit of sweat. Sweat is all around us, it denotes and delights those that have the pleasure of manual labour, of physical challenge, and of feats that engage the mind-body complex so such a degree that the stress is made tangible.
Covering up that sweat, on the other hand, is akin to wearing a happy-clown mask even whilst we sob profusely in gin-soaked sobriety. It is to hide our physical pride, and pretend that we go out of our way to avoid the work of the body. In other words, deodorant is a facsimile of the bourgeoisie, a symbol of escaping both the drudgery and the joy of bodily work, a faux retraction into the dwindling of the human form.
Cast off your deodorant, I say, and let your armpits sing! Go out, enjoy chopping wood, indulge in lifting large items, play intense sports until your lungs break! Take back your smell!