A few months ago, I received an email in response to a post about pooh. Or maybe it wasn’t about pooh but it mentioned pooh. Not the cute bear that gets his head stuck in a honey jar but the actual bodily function. That pooh. I’ve mentioned it plenty of times before, highlighting my fear of doing it in public or within a hundred mile radius of a boy I like. Heck, every morning I awoke next to Ex in his Georgetown townhouse, I faced my pooh fears.
“Go downstairs,” I ordered.
“I’m tired. You go downstairs,” he responded before rolling over and falling back to sleep.
“Hey, it was your bright idea to buy a house where the master bathroom had neither walls nor doors to close it off. Go. Down. Stairs.”
“Fine,” he conceded with a huff, dragging the comforter off the bed and creaking down the wood steps to the living room.
“I don’t hear the television on,” I yelped over the banister before darting for the bathroom, turning on all faucets, sitting down on the toilet and letting nature happen.
It’s been two years since Ex and while I may have gotten older I’ve in no way matured with regard to bathroom drama.
Anyway, in October a reader contacted me after scanning a post about pooh. She had a bathroom product and after reading my essay she was convinced I would adore it. Uncertain if I should be flattered or insulted that someone comfortably linked me to the smell of shit, I let the email sit. Eventually I reread the letter, pondered a response and then finally sent one. The reader offered a sample of her product, I offered my mailing address and by the end of the month, I had a box containing two bottles of Poo~Pourri - a travel size and a not-quite travel size.
“What’s that?” my coworker probed when she saw me pulling the product from the packaging.
“It’s pooh-smell-be-gone stuff. A reader asked me to try it and write a review,” I said while holding up the spritz bottle and admiring the packaging. “I told her reviews weren’t my thing but I’d be happy to give the product a try and write something if I felt inspired.”
My coworker came over, glanced at the item and then swiped it out of my hands. “Be right back,” she offered before slipping into the bathroom and doing her thing.
A few minutes later she exited.
“Well?” I suspiciously asked.
“Love it. Lovelovelove it,” she sang while extending her hand to return the bottle.
I pulled off the cap and sniffed the fragrance, a blend of eucalyptus and other botanicals. It reminded me of the aromas that float through the hallways of spas - healthy but not pungent, calming but not frilly. I tucked the bottle next to my monitor and waited a few seconds. And when I knew the coast was clear, I tiptoed to the bathroom, stuck my head in and took a whiff. Pooh-free. Nothing more than subtle botanicals filled the air.
By the end of the week, I relocated the bottle to the shelf in the bathroom at work. I wanted to see if the people in my office, a collection of three women and three men, would embrace the product. I never mentioned its presence. Nope, I merely sat it next to the Glade spray and let the bathroom usage begin. While by no means a scientific study, something interesting happened - everyone in my office, me included, started using Poo~Pourri and stopped using Glade. The pooh smell is more adequately conquered. The lingering aroma is pleasant. And because you spray the product directly into the toilet water, there is no fear of slippery floors or, well, in my case no fear of spending the rest of the day smelling like bathroom deodorizer.
In addition to offering a really nice product, the packaging is brilliant. Subtle enough to be discreet but not bland to the point of lacking appeal. It fits perfectly on a shelf dotted with soaps and candles. And while it might appear a tad feminine, it clearly isn’t girly to the point of being off-putting to the male population (cough, guy coworkers).
So, if you’re a girl or a boy or a curious blend of both, wander over to the Poo~Pourri site and check out their fabulous product. You won’t be disappointed and you may just find the perfect gift for the holiday season.