facepotsteeth
A toothpaste tale
This week’s PDW is brought to you by toothpaste.
As a fun challenge I’m attempting to write an entire post with “toothpaste” as the prompt. I can’t say there was a flood of brilliant ideas that flowed forth when I decided on that. After all, what can be said about that magic minty goo that keeps away gingivitis, cavities, and bad breath?
What did eventually come to my empty and grasping mind was Face, Pots, Teeth. This was a trademarked Donohue phrase growing up. Every night it was the directive given me to and my sisters before bed. We were to wash our face, go potty, and brush our teeth. Did you do face, pots, teeth? Pat it’s time for face, pots, teeth. Get your butt in that bathroom for face, pots, teeth!
In my young brain I thought it was one word - facepotsteeth. Not knowing how words worked yet, I was going off of context clues. It was said quickly, as though the whole thing were a single idea. The same thing also happened with tennis shoes. My brain heard tennashoes. To this day I think that’s a more accurate term because 99% of folks aren’t playing a lick of tennis when wearing them.
While I’m sure mom hollered at us for Face, Pots, Teeth, I mostly picture Dad doing it. He had a nighttime lullaby for each of the three kids so maybe he was just trying to expedite the process, get us in bed, and get on with his evening. In his defense he worked all day and then came home to bedlam and semi-feral children. I would have done the same.
In addition to thinking it was one word, I assumed Face, Pots, Teeth needed to be completed in that order. I would wash my face by dragging a sudsy washcloth over my skin. The suds were from some generic bar soap, maybe Irish Spring. Then I would pee. I’m not sure how I accomplished this given that I didn’t drink water for the first 12 years of my life. Finally I would brush my teeth. In the early days I would use a stand up pump bottle for kids. The flavor options were usually bubble gum or mango or strawberry crack. To be fair, mint is as arbitrary a choice as any. Eventually I moved on to proper adult toothpaste out of a proper adult tube.
As I moved into middle school, my nighttime routine evolved. This was mostly due to my newly developed acne. Those pimples weren’t going to tolerate a simple Irish Spring swipe across the face. We didn’t know much about skin in the Midwest in the 90’s. So this “evolved” skincare routine involved scrubbing my face hard with textured pads made of 43% Brillo soaked in battery acid. It was called Oxy. The burn would last for hours after use. My brain thought that must indicate it was working. Those pimples were simply melting off my face (along with my actual face).
Mercifully my mom got me into a dermatologist who prescribed a myriad of topical and oral mediations. There was a mild antibiotic and retinol. Each one was a variation of face melting and each one had varying levels of efficacy. Finally we landed on Accutane which can cause birth defects but desiccated my acne from the inside out.
As the years went on, Face, Pots, Teeth became more and more elaborate. The intricacies mostly came from Face. Pots became more productive as I was introduced to water and how to drink it. Teeth remained largely the same. Brush until you feel like the funk is gone. Then hit all the areas one more time for good measure.
I dove into my 20’s and entered a period of relatively good skin with relatively little effort. My cleansers became more sophisticated, as indicated by my use of the word ‘cleansers.’ But most of the medication went to the wayside. The skin gods had determined I’d paid my karmic price in high school. Slap on a little SPF moisturizer and they were appeased.
As I now enter my mid-to-late 30s, Face, Pots, Teeth has morphed into a complex ritual requiring about 12 minutes (I’ve timed it). First I apply prescription-strength Minoxidil to the crown of my head. This is to stave off the ravages of male pattern baldness for as long as possible. I will fight the good fight until I’ve got enough cash to pay a Turkish med spa to fight it for me.
Then comes Cetaphil cleanser over the face and neck. After that I take a cosmetic pad (0% Brillo), douse it in Glycolic Acid (only 14% battery acid), and give my face a good soaking. As my face dries, I floss. In total honesty, this has only become part of the ritual in the last few years. Before that I would only floss before seeing the dentist and then lie to his face about how often I do it (I don’t think I fooled him due to the pints of blood gushing from my gums). After the used floss goes into the toilet, a habit I’m pretty sure I inherited from Dad, I brush my teeth. Nowadays I use a medium bristle brush but everything else remains the same.
At this point my face should be dry enough. So I put on Cerave nighttime cream which could easily double for buttercream frosting in a pinch. Then I put on too much nighttime eye repair cream in the futile hope of beating back the Donohue Dark Eye Circle (DDEC). Lastly I put on a lip slave that is the texture of lard.
When I look in the mirror at the end of all this hullabaloo, I am shiny. There’s a gloss to my skin. A sheen. “Slimy” would not be an entirely inappropriate word choice.
I wrap my head in a bandana like an old-timey kitchen wench (to prevent my slime and Minoxidil from getting on my pillow cases) then crawl into bed.
As ridiculous and absurd as this pomp might be, as pointless as this war against skin’s inevitable aging, I love my current Face, Pots, Teeth. In all honesty, it’s one of my favorite parts of the day. It is the vehicle that takes me from my day to my night. It’s a third space where I quite literally wash away what was and prepare for is to be. Each tincture and cream is a signal to my body that we are to wind down, rest is coming.
And it was all borne out of my dad hollering for facepotsteeth from the bottom of our stairs 3 decades ago in St. Louis.
Maybe tonight I will think about him as I scrub, buff, cleanse, exfoliate, and, yes, brush, my way toward bedtime. After all, the man just wants to get on with his evening. And so do I.