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bar soapWe sometimes find ourselves inadvertently conducting a survey of our friends via our Gmail status message. And sometimes, the results tempt us to start using that "Block" button more often. Here, we'll examine those results.

I thought I knew her. I thought I knew everything about someone I'd been close with for years -- the content of her character, the nature of her soul, her bathroom habits. But then she dropped the bomb. My best friend uses bar soap. Weird.

I assumed that everyone used body wash. I was heavily influenced by those ubiquitous, colorful bath poofs and commercials that suggest soap in liquid form (with scrubbing beads or magic moisturizing swirls!) can inspire your morning and change your life. Using bar soap seemed a quaint, old-fashioned notion like garter belts or the cotton gin.

I thought those solid chunks of cleanser were something relegated to decoration at a bed & breakfast or only used by senior citizens afraid to embrace advances in soap technology. But I've learned that bar-soap users walk among us. The hip 20-somethings in my Gmail contact list spoke out in surprising numbers on behalf of bar soap when I took a scientific Gchat poll.

Click here to keep reading and to hear Joanna's case against bar soap.

Too Much Lather Is a Good Thing
bar soapWe live in a lather-centric society. And while this is a selling point for me, too much lather drives many bar-soap users away. I admit I feel a slight pang of sadness when I wash perfectly good lather down the drain, but laziness reigns when I think about how many times I'd have to caress a bar of soap to get the same, luxurious results.

Stop Being a Cheapskate
The price disparity between bars and bottles was also a main complaint of bar devotees. But spending $5-10 extra per year on soap seems worth it to be the mayor of Lather Town.

Bar Soap Does Get Private-Part Approval
Certainly, body wash is not without faults. The most convincing pro-bar argument I've heard is that it's "better for your lady parts" because it tends to be milder. Point. Also, it's hard to find one that doesn't smell like a food. And the name, "body wash," sounds overly sensual and awkward for an ordinary hygiene product.

Bar Soap Signifies Our Own Personal Demise
The main problem is that a bar of soap reminds me of my own mortality. Watching it shrink with each shower (which is an entire year in soap time) is disheartening. Sure, a fresh bar of soap sitting in your bathtub is glowing with new possibilities. But before long that fresh bar becomes cracked and weak sitting in a pile of its own scum, a filmy skeleton of its former beauty. You can run out of body wash, but you don't have to watch it shrivel and die.

Joanna Borns is a comedian and writer who is very adamant about personal hygiene.