Confessions of a Bad Bath Taker

I've always wanted to be the type who takes baths. Even when I was a kid, it just seemed like a romantic, luxurious thing to do. Hot water, bubbles, candles, wine, a good book. Is this not a recipe for the best time ever? Well, for me, sadly not.

First of all, I'm tall. At 5'9", I just don't fit in a bathtub. I can sit up and stretch out my legs, leaving my entire torso exposed. Or I can slouch down to cover my navel with water with my knees sticking up awkwardly and uncomfortably. It never releases the tension in my neck because of the angle at which I have to hold my head. If I use a towel, it only ends up getting soaked.  I mean, physically, I'm just a bad bath taker.

My timing is always bad, too. First of all, it's summer in Florida. Sitting in hot water for any amount of time is not ideal. I probably should have tried this in December. But somehow I'd found myself on the Lush web site a few weeks ago, and I'd ordered some bath stuff. Stuff that was described as calming, luxurious, rich, sensual...I mean, I was sold. None of these things are in my life right now, and if a little ball of scent-ridden stuff can get it for me, well, a billionity dollars is a steal, isn't it?

Well, I'm not impressed. The little green ball smelled so strongly of pine that I could hardly stand it. The butterball was slimy. I guess it's supposed to be satiny smooth. And the bubble bath stuff didn't crumble all the way and gave me only mediocre bubbles.

Three failed baths. I think I'm done.

I don't know. Maybe it's that the first time I tried, it was during naptime. Not only did I feel like the twins would wake up any second and come upstairs to find me, I also felt like I was being a bum. Instead of shutting off and floating to a dreamy wonderland, my brain was ticking off things I wasn't getting done on my to-do list. I only have 90 minutes a day of kid-free time if that. I didn't want to waste it in a tub. I got out, rinsed off, and had to wash my tub of green residue. Not relaxing.

The second time, the babies actually did wake up. What I had thought would ruin the bath experience actually saved it. There I was, in all my slimy, buttery glory when I heard the loud elephant trample...I mean, delicate pitter patter, of little toddler feet up the stairs. They busted into the bathroom, stood in abject shock for a moment, and then recovered as if it were perfectly normal for mommy to be in the bathtub instead of them.

"Your toys, mama! Oh no! Your toys!"

Splash! In came the watering can, the rubber duckies, and the buckets.

"Now let me help you," they said.

And they "washed" my hair for me.

Not the relaxing, classy, adult experience Lush was advertising, but truly the best time I got out of their products by far.

The third time, I swore I'd do it right. I waited until 11 p.m. The babies were sound asleep. I was excited to use the bubble bath because the bombs don't fizz, and it turns out I'm eight years old in that if a tub full of water doesn't have bubbles, I don't consider it complete. It's just a boring old bath, slime, smell and all.

So, I stepped into the bubbly tub and tried to relax. I was going to think about really deep things, okay? I was ready to solve the problems of the world. I lit candles this time and everything. But my legs still stuck up, and the water was still too hot, and I still couldn't get my head in the right position. I sat there for a few minutes, restlessly, trying to get into the right mood. Instead of thinking deep thoughts, I ended up formulating a to-do list for the next day. I began worrying about all the writing I could be doing at that exact moment, instead of sitting on my arse in a tub. After 10 minutes, I decided to shave my legs. At least then I was doing something productive. But then the task was completed and I was back to staring at the ceiling. I got out. 

Baths just aren't for me. I'll stick to my stolen 10-minute showers during naps where I have to use one of those combo shampoo/conditioners to save time. I actually think I like those better. If I do venture into adult bathtime again, I'm not springing for Lush.  Oh no. If I try this again, I'm going old school. Mr. Bubbles all the way. Stick that in your classy-bath pipe and smoke it.

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