Bubble, Bubble

I don’t often feel old, but I think I must be getting old. Here’s how I know: I’m having what can only be called “product grief”.

This is Avon’s fault, by the way.

Here’s what happened: I am a girl (albeit, apparently, an OLD one) who loves a bubble bath. Oh boy, do I ever.  I always have, beginning when I was a wee lass who had a giraffe back scrubber (I believe my nana gave it to me) and a bottle of Avon’s Soft Pink bubble bath.

Here’s what I loved about that bubble bath: EVERYTHING.

It smelled like heaven. It foamed up beautifully. It wasn’t drying or itchy. It was heaven in a bottle. Oh, and it was pink.

Best. Stuff. Ever.

As an adult, I still loved it. I would go a couple of years without it and then I would buy it in bulk and enjoy its sudsy goodness. Because I’d been using it so long, the smell triggered very specific reactions in my soul – it smelled of joy, giggles, childhood. (I would also occasionally regret the loss of the giraffe back scrubber, because it was awesome.)

Avon … I can’t even believe I’m typing this … DISCONTINUED MY BUBBLE BATH.

I feel so robbed. Cheated even. Like they stole my childhood. What else are they going to ruin? Fie on you, Avon! You have stolen my bubble bath dreams and left me to soak in paltry substitutions from Bath and Body Works or the Skankatorium known as Victoria’s Secret!

I have outlived my bubble bath. This is so wrong. SO WRONG.

I feel so old.