My Tub

A girl and her tub should not be messed with. My full-body sinking hole with relaxing jets is my form of relaxation in this rat race called life. Even though, I am surrounded by dirty clothes, piles of forgotten cosmetics and beauty products with plastic toy animals staring at me, I am alone. I lock the door and barricade myself from my husband, two small boys, phone calls, laundry, and life. I turn off the overhead light and let the natural sunrays from outside come through the window.

I might exfoliate the soles of my tired feet or I might run the dull razor up and down my hairy legs, but mostly I just sit. I close my eyes while putting up my feet and letting my mind race to an imaginary world where things are simple. I let the heat from the hot water steam up my glasses. I let the heat turn my skin pink from the extreme temperature differences in the room and melt away my stress and worries. The sweat runs down my face and mixes with the washed away make-up, dirt, and tears. It forms puddles and trickles down my body and drift away in the immense pool. I conquer all of life’s dilemmas, family squabbles, and work stress on deserted island in the bathroom. And when it is over, I would like to think they all disappear down the drain for a temporary leave. This is my secret clubhouse that I retreat to for relief. My tub is my own and should not be messed with.