Advent Calendar of Beauty, Dec 18
Mom says "rub Vicks all over you every day!"
Oh beautiful ones,
Remember the father in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” who saw Windex as the cure for everything? “Put some Windex on it!”
My mom is doing something similar with Vicks Vaporub. It’s that camphor-and-menthol topical ointment that many of us grew up slathering all over our chests and necks when we got bad colds and coughs.
Now I love a good Vicks slather-down as much as the next person; and I have followed my mom’s advice over the years to “rub Vicks all over you” when it applies. It’s messy as hell, but it is sooo comforting. I’m a real fan (to put it mildly) of menthol pain-relieving products; this is my version of Vicks.
With the Triple Threat of viruses hogging the holiday spotlights, my mom is showing her true Vicks fandom. I’ve lost count of the number of conversations where she’s told someone:
“Get stuck into the Vicks! Put it on every day. That will keep you from getting sick.”
I shrugged the first few times I heard it, but damn was she relentless. When she heard my niece was sick, she said urgently into the phone, “Tell her to get some Vicks and put it on every day. For the whole winter!” When she heard Steve and I talking about friends who had fallen ill, she said, “Vicks, Tatyana! Every day!”
There were times I wanted to go into child-daughter mode and say, “Mom, I’m so sure, get over your Vicks hangup, it’s not a cure-all.” But I also thought: Who cares? If she’s into her Vicks, let her spread the good menthol word. After a while I found it amusing.
When she heard that Steve and I were hosting our first indoor party earlier this month, it was all “Do you have any Vicks?” I did. At a family dinner, I saw her standing close to my daughter-in-law and saying with her Scorpio intensity: “Rub Vicks on every day, and you’ll be fine.” Inside I’m thinking: Is she for real?
I’ve heard the Vicks proselytizing so much that recently, after I opened a bathroom draw and saw that little green jar, I thought: Why not? I slathered on a thick gooey slab all over my chest and neck, threw on a high-neck old t-shirt and crawled into bed smelling like a menthol factory. It was heavenly.
Today, after I told her that Steve has a cold, I knew what to expect.
“Get the Vicks all over him.” Which I knew would never happen; my mom might have thought the same, so her next strategic firing point really made me pause.
“And if he won’t put it on his body, put it on his pillow.”