Between my thumb and the thing on my leg (or where the thing on my leg used to be before the doctor made it go away on Monday), I've been using a lot of band-aids lately. I have had plenty to choose from. We have boxes and boxes of them, some very old and some just recently purchased, some of all-one-size, and some a mixed up conglomeration of old and older of different sizes and shapes and materials of various brands.
I usually prefer the fabric kind, which are basically light brown. The semi-waterproof ones I bought to use on my leg are a real strange color, sort of a pinky salmon. When I was a kid, band-aids were white. I remember when they came out with the first ones that were supposed to be "flesh colored." I don't know whose flesh they were modeled on. There's not a one of them that's the color of my skin, or anybody else's I've ever seen either.
I use "band-aid" generically, even though it's a brand name. I suppose I think I'm getting away with it by not capitalizing it. There are plenty of brand names that are used generically, usually because they were either the first or the best known. And there are some things that started out as trademarked names that just plain aren't any more -- aspirin, zipper, and cellophane among them.
I used to keep a list of such brand-cum-generic names as they came to me, but I can't find it right now. I do remember that Band-Aid, Kleenex, Coke, Scotch Tape, Thermos Bottle, Saran Wrap, Jell-O, Popsicle, and Visqueen were on it.
I know about Visqueen because I once worked as an order-taker for a company that made the same kind of polyethylene sheeting, but theirs was called VapoFilm. We hated it when someone would call and say they wanted to order some Visqueen.
I should have learned a lesson from that, I guess. Okay. Sorry, Band-Aid.
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