Last night my teenage son was sitting next to me, looking at something on the computer screen. I heard him whisper quietly, but with great meaning, “Mom!” I must have not answered as quickly as he had hoped, because once again, “Psst! MOM!”
“What honey?” … silence… pause from the teenager… then, “Mom! You have old lady hands!”
*****crickets chirping*****
OK everyone, I am only 43 years old. And yes, he is right. I HAVE OLD LADY HANDS. But I have a good reason! I work in a hospital on computers that are touched by every doctor and nurse you can imagine. Now who were THEY in contact with before the keyboard? The very sick patients. And you should see these keyboards. Nasty.
So I am a Purell addict. Plain and simple. We have Purell dispensers on every floor, and if I have touched a mouse or keyboard, my hand goes directly under that sweet bacteria killing foam. Unfortunately, every addiction has it’s downfall. Purell addiction = Old Lady Hands.
You know, maybe a representative from a moisturizing product company will see this and send me some free samples. Then I can do a “before” and “after” picture. That’s great PR! Oil of Olay, are you out there?
And P.S. I gently explained to my son that when he gets married, he needs to be sure he never EVER makes a comment like that to his wife. EVER.
Check those bad boys out.
