When Doug buys deodorant, he looks for the cheapest product on the shelf. I ran out of my deodorant and Doug offered to grab something for me while he was out. Umm, no thank you. I eliminate everything on the shelf with the words “delicate” or “light” and look for the product that claims to be strongest. “Prescription” strength makes me so happy I giggle. If they marketed a deodorant toward professional athletes, that would get my attention. I really don’t want to be stinky. Also, if the product comes in twelve different scents, I am still picking the one that smells like nothing. I am trying to avoid odors, not add them. I would buy a deodorant that smells like soap. Soap is the only thing I want to smell like. I tried embracing the normal, natural smells of a human being when I was in college. I am pretty sure that one of the reasons college students spend so much consuming alcohol is to cope with women trying to find their place in the hierarchy of feminists. I don’t want to smell like armpits, feet, oily hair, musk or pear trees. I want to smell like soap or nothing. When someone develops an experimental laser procedure to eliminate armpit odors, call me. I will be a test subject for you. I was a test subject once before. I let a clinic use me to develop their baseline statistics and the result was that I got to see without glasses. If I’m willing to let someone laser my eyes, I’m not going to hesitate to offer my armpits. It’s for the good of science.