Saffola Girl

“Is that baby oil you’re using?” CC asks; PP can hear her pert nose wrinkling in disgust.

“No,” Non Baby Oil Rubber answers. “I can not use Baby Oil. My skin. It is allergic. It’s Saffola.”
“Really?” CC asks, not keeping the shock out of her tone.

Saffola? PP thought to herself. Isn’t that what you use to deep fry chicken? Was this woman preparing to deep-fry herself after the sauna?

“Yes,” Saffola Woman continues, “I was using Olive Oil, but then I saw on Dr. Oz how it can enter your skin and you can smell like it,” she giggles.





PP thinks, Is it better to smell like fried chicken rather than a Greek salad? Personally, the salad seems better, but then there's no accounting for taste as the cliche goes.

“Have you tried Tetri Oil?” CC suggests, “It’s kinda got that mentholy thing going, so it might not be too good for your skin either."

“What’s Tetri Oil?” PP asks, trying to keep the Oil Conversation alive.

“It’s this kinda oil that’s actually really nice for dry skin. But like I said, it’s got that mentholy scent, so it’s kinda strong.”
“I could try it....” Saffola Woman offers, reaching for her Saffola and smearing some more on top of her thighs. “But the Saffola, it work pretty good!” she declares, slapping her thighs with a resounding smack.

PP can’t get the image of deep fried chicken out of her brain. The way you boil a big pot of oil and then drop the floured pieces of chicken into it: the thighs, breasts, wings. Then watch them all sizzle and splatter, floating about in the hot oil.





How disgusting was it to slather Saffola all over your naked body in sauna?

But wait, maybe it’s a cultural thing? Like maybe some cultures might believe that preparing your skin for deep-frying is a good thing?

Saffola Woman lies back, sighing contentedly.

CC gives PP that look. Like she knows exactly what PP is thinking. Cause she’s thinking the same thing.




They leave Saffola Woman alone. Discuss the hilariously unintentionally funny movie 9—how Penelope Cruz was the only thing worth watching, except for Kate Hudson in her sparkle mini dress. “I thought of you when I saw her dancing that go go,” CC laughs at PP, “you’d look dynoomite in that dress!”







Saffola Woman rises, collects her stuff, and exits. No scent left in her wake. Saffola must be oderless until you throw the chicken in it. But now, PP can’t contain herself any longer. “Saffola Oil!!!!????" she shrieks. "Isn’t that what you use to cook with? Like Crisco?”

“Yeah,” CC nods, wiping a bead of perspiration off her delicate red headed forehead, “you deep fry chicken in it and....”
“That’s what I thought!” PP exclaims. “Disgusting!”

CC laughs, then rises, “I’m about fried in here myself,” she jokes. “You ‘bout ready?”
“Yeah,” PP sits up, following her out into the locker room.

Later, driving to Fat Apples to pick up ollaliberry pies for her friend’s birthday party, CC comments, “I hope Saffola Girl didn’t hear you.”
“I don’t care!” PP laughs. “What the hell does she expect using Saffola in the sauna?”
”I know, but later, after my shower, I think it was her, this woman was giving me the Extended Eye Contact, and I thought, what’s up with you, Bitch. And then I thought, oh shit, I wonder if she was Saffola Girl giving me the Evil Eye.”






PP laughs, “Probably. I’d watch out if I were you. Saffola might start oozing out of your pores.”
“Gross!” CC shakes her head. “What I don’t get is how people can think it’s okay to use the stuff they do in the sauna. Don’t they get it that the oil sinks into the wood and then it’s there? It never leaves?” She shakes her head. “People do the weirdest shit in the sauna.”
“Tell me about it,” PP nods. “I’ve written a book about it.”

“I don’t know where I learned the etiquette, but it just wouldn’t occur to me to use oils in the sauna and let them seep into the wood where other women would be sitting later. Different cultures have different ideas of hygiene though. I have this friend, who said he was visiting some third world country, I forget where, and it’s not about relaxing in the sauna, but it’s about getting clean.”
”I don’t think Saffola is a cleansing agent!” PP jokes. “At least she’d given up
Olive oil thanks to Dr. Oz.”

“Yeah, and it took someone on TV to get her to stop.” CC shakes her head as she makes the left turn onto Hwy 80.

“Thank goodness for Dr. Oz!” PP proclaims. “Otherwise, we’d all smell like Italy!”
“That wouldn’t be so bad though,” CC jokes as she floors the Acura, zooming past about 6 cars lined up in the slow lane.
“Be Italian!” PP starts to sing, ala 9.
“I didn’t really like that song in the movie,” CC frowns.
“Really?” PP grins. “I thought it was great! All the sand flying out of the tambourines and Fergie’s cleavage.”





Laughing, CC takes the Carlson Exit, as PP smiles to herself.

Wonder what Fellini would think of Saffola Girl?

She'd be worth at least one fantasy, right?