When I was in
college, there were times when
money was more than tight, it was nonexistent. To drum up
extra cash after I had
pawned CD's and sold anything that wasn't nailed down, I applied to be a
guinea pig for the local skin study.
There were lines of little old ladies in white coats sitting in front of folding tables like the ones to eat at in a church's basement . In front of them were trays filled with bits of gauze with tape on one side. Sharpie markers indicated the first six letters of the alphabet.
Down my back in rows, there were twelve white square dots of puffy gauze that I was not to get wet, not to remove, for a week until they were inspected, removed with rubber gloves and replaced with duplicates of the same chemicals. Lotions and creams, mostly. They paid me $70.
It didn't take long before my boyfriend at the time offered to pay me what the study was if it meant I would stop. He said it reminded him too much of a hospital , but I'm sure it was something worse .