Essential oils — Kristen Writes Things

Years ago I made a bold statement. Although, unlike many of the wild and inappropriate things I’ve said out loud and in front of people with ears, it wasn’t merely my declaration that made it bold or memorable. It was that Sarah heard it and repeated it with loathing in her voice several times over the years.

You see, I had criticized essential oil people and Sarah identified with that statement. Slightly. But today she definitely clarified that she likes to use them to make things smell nice and NOT to cure cancer.

However, if there had been a court (of opinion) transcript that day, it would show that I called people who used essential oils douchebags. Not just the people who used them to cure cancer. Pretty much everyone.

In my defense, one woman can only handle so much talk about essential oils. Essential oil for appetite suppression. Essential oils for keeping bugs out of your garden. And don’t even get me started on what happened when CBD showed up at the party.

Actually, do let me get started. This handy Venn diagram pretty much sums up how I felt on the subject…

In retrospect, I should have known my audience (Sarah) better or pulled back on the essential oil-related vitriol.

{Pauses to review the demographics of the four people who regularly peruse this blog. Okay. All four of you regularly use essential oils. I’m screwed. But I can’t say that data has ever dissuaded me from making stupid declarations on the internet, so into the breach I go…}

In the years since I made this statement, I’ve moved towards a more centrist view on essential oils and have been forced to acknowledge publicly that many non-douchebags use them. They even use essential oils with CBD. And maybe they’ve stabilized a world economy or cured ebola with it. Hell, if I know. The one thing that I can say with confidence is that I’ve made peace with knowing that I made an unkind generalization which Sarah will never let me forget AND will pull out of her pocket every single time that essential oils are mentioned in mixed company.

Forever. Loudly. And possibly in a passive-aggressive cross-stitch or macrame gift at Christmas.

I welcome this, though. Like I would welcome a blessing (yes, that’s the real term) of narwhals to come to my birthday party. Knowing that they don’t exist and would probably shank me while reaching across the table for a fork if they were real and eating cake at my birthday party.

I can’t even believe that it suggested “what do you call a group of narcissists. That’s amazing.

And yet, I still have to wonder… Am I a douchebag who has reluctantly ascended to the highest levels of douchebaggery by purchasing essential oils myself? Or has the recent purchase of essential oils opened me up to my fullest douchebag potential?

This is a question for the ages, and I believe Sarah is the only person who could answer this for me. Perhaps she will in the comments.

Or maybe she'll just get angry? Again? In the comments this time? And, if she were to get angry in the comments, would you blame her?

(If so, you can put that in the comments too…)

To be honest, it would probably be deserved. Especially since I trapped myself into buying some and am a hypocrite now.

Correction: I’m theoretically a hypocrite until I manage to not run them over with my car and use them.

You, my gentle, likely essential oil-using reader, may wonder how I’ve gotten to this point. Like most tales of woe, it all started with an internet purchase. In this case, the purchase of a pretty ceramic lotus for my bathroom. And this lotus was supposed to do more than just look perty. It was supposed to smell perty. Or, at least, not like a wet dog. Which my room very much smells like at this moment. Partially because it’s wet outside but mostly because my dogs have needed a bath for a month.

But even if my room already smelled great, when I saw this lotus online, I looked forward to it smelling extra great without all the effort required to find lighters and/or light candles or incense. (For some reason, incense never set off douchebag bells for me.)

I bought the lotus. I took the lotus out of the box. I took it upstairs and put it on my extremely blog-worthy bath caddy. I discarded the box. And then I smelled the lotus. It didn’t smell. Now I’m trapped. Either I give up on the dream of having this unboxed and pretty lotus smelling hella good, or I become a douchebag.

I’m choosing douchebag. Full circle is a bitch. Unless it’s a douchebag, that is.