My grandma is a habitual Bengay user. She has been for as long as I can remember. She is constantly slathering it on her arthritic appendages and goes through whole cases of it each month. Okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but not by much. Anyway... In her old house, the smell was so strong that every inch of every item in that house wreaked of Bengay. If you stayed for any period of time, you might even come away smelling like it yourself. I even have a down comforter and duvet given to me from said house, and no matter how many times I wash them, the smell won't go away. It's almost endearing in a nostalgic way.
Imagine my surprise last night when I crawl into bed and the scent of minty menthol hits my nostrils. Brett had rubbed Icy Hot into his sore knees, and for a split second, I was whisked away to a time several years ago when Brett and I lived in my grandparents' house for few months while they were gone for the winter. It was an old house, but had with it many fond memories. As I lay there in bed, thoughts of red shag carpet, vinyl couches, and photo-filled walls led me into slumber.
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I don't think you were exaggerating at all by saying she goes through cases each month. Even ask Mom, she's the one who buys it for her.
Oh yeah... Easily 12-14 bottles of the nasty stuff in two weeks. I don't think the smell of Bengay will ever be endearing to me... It makes me want to vomit. Luckily she has stopped use since going to rehab.
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