minty masochism

remember binaca? whatever happened to that shit? too much aerosol? global warming couldn’t handle all the minty fresh breath? if you grew up in the 80s, you might have gone through the rite of passage wherein you dared and challenged your friends and yourself to lift your tongue and see how many rapid blasts of binaca you could withstand underneath the tender virgin tissue that lies beneath the tongue.

it was a twofold dare/danger. the first ache was from the propellent — it was cold. but whatever made it minty came and hit you like the backlash from jalapeno/hot salsa does after your fourth or fifth chip. you’re going along fine when all of a sudden — WHAM! your mouth is on firah. that’s how it was with binaca. you’d take 5, 10, 15 blasts. it was sting-y, but it was fine. and then … there was so much saliva in your mouth and the underneath of your tongue felt like it was shredded. you could only wait for the fire to stop and the rest of your mouth to go numb.

and if you did it *again*, you probably are an addict now. or at least have some good obsessions to work through. either because you were eager to have the burn again or cause you loved that much attention or both. i should know.


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