Tangy saltwater plus the dull taste of mint and the slight sourness of Aloe Vera Juice with a tiny kick just to remind you that it’s working. That is what success tastes like.
I can tell you this, because I have it in a recycled Snapple bottle in my bathroom.
Oddly enough, success is not my favorite taste in the world. In fact, I can think of quite a few other things I’d prefer to use as mouthwash. Soda, for one, would taste much better. Or probably apple juice, or even plain water. Although not tomato juice – that’s still on my taste buds’ blacklist (even though I force feed it down my throat nearly every other day). So if I don’t adore the taste of my homemade mouthwash, how can I truly call it a success? Well, I’ll tell you how: It doesn’t make my hair greasy, I don’t lose sleep over it, I can make it in five minutes, and it works just as well as a conventional brand.
You wouldn’t believe it to taste the stuff – as I said, it’s not the best flavored brew in the world – but it leaves your mouth minty fresh, I swear. And the freshness lasts, I would argue, even longer than Listerine. Plus, swishing my homemade mouthwash doesn’t set my mouth ablaze like a rocket in the Redwood Forest. I use it just like conventional mouthwash, swishing a small amount for about 30 seconds morning and night.
The initial taste of my homemade mouthwash packs a real knockout punch, and it’s not something I would recommend as a top-of-the-morning ritual. I’m fairly confident it could render an unexpected tester unconscious. Of course, if you’re already using an all natural baking-soda-and-hydrogen-peroxide-based toothpaste, then you’re no stranger to the early morning kick-in-the-mouth, and this mouthwash will be a cinch for you.
To be fair, once I get myself past the initial shock of the tangy saltwater, dull mint and sour AVJ taste, everything settles and I feel like I’m swishing minty sea water (not a bad compromise, I say). Once I spit, the only taste I’m left with is pure mint (without the third-degree burns), which lasts for a good long haul. Plus, I hate to throw the taste of my mouthwash completely under the bus so quickly for two reasons. First, everyone knows that the fiery inferno of Listerine can be hotter than the hinges of hell and an equally unwelcome morning wake-me-up. Second, I’m wagering that some of the dislike of my mouthwash could be caused by the simple fact that it’s different.
So, as I am still in not-so-desperate-but-still-quite-desperate need of a win, let’s call it success. Heck, even the Beatles took some getting used to (for some people).