When I was little, there was always whatever new pin Avon was putting out for the Christian holiday. A little bunny or an egg with a little hinge and a little compartment full of SOLID perfume. I dutifully dabbed some of the solid behind my ears right away and for the next couple of days. Then I ate the rest. My breath smelled good for hours.
There were always peeps, too, but I only ate them one year. A week before Easter I decided to push my best friend Barry in a wagon from the top of the hill at the end of our street. I tripped and scraped my face for 12 inches of gravelly hill. My mouth was all bloody and sore. I didn�t lose any teeth but I was so swollen I could hardly eat. I put a peep in my mouth and let it rest there until it disintegrated enough for me to lightly chew and swallow. I ate maybe 10 like that before I felt sick and my lips and tongue were orange from the pink and yellow dyes.
(School pictures were the next week. I was self-conscious and kept lowering my head. The photographer, a freaking genius, told me he had lotion that would cover up the scrape and bruise. He carefully applied some and said it was perfect. Not yet a slave to the mirror at age seven, I believed him and beamed a big smile. When we got the photos I was horrified to see the purply bruise and scabbiness illuminated by something like Vaseline. My parents displayed the eight by ten inch on the mantel until I stole it down.)
As a pimply, awkward teen, the basket contained Clearisil and deodorant. Perfect!
The bunny always seemed to know what I needed. Where is the bunny?