Monday, November 27, 2006

Land Ahoy!

There comes a time in every woman's life when she feels the need for pampering. Okay, I cannot categorically state that every woman feels the need, but this woman certainly does. Especially after bustin' her bum trying out a new strength training tape, after a hard day's work, when it's friggen freezin', or sometimes just for the hell of it, I need some kind of pampering in order to regain my equilibrium.

I'm a water baby -- love it so much in fact that I have been known to say, right from when I first had a grasp on the term, that I wouldn't mind being amphibious. Although, as I've gotten older the thought of transitioning from one environment to the other leaves me feeling a bit weirded out. Wouldn't there be moments of feeling like you're drowning as your body tries to sort out which element it's s'posed to be breathing? What if I got the hiccups right in the middle of it! As the water lover that I am, one of my favourite (easily affordable and readily accessible) forms of pampering is to take a bath. Sometimes with candles and soft music, sometimes with a glass of wine. But always with a bottle of cold water beside the bath and some form of 'smellies' in the water. Tonight it was Batherapy Bath Salts, (similar to powdered Radox,) sometimes it's essential oils, bath gel, or bath bombs. Whatever it is, it's gotta be something that makes me feel luscious and pampered. And it's gotta be a deep bath!*

Picture it. The sensuousness: home alone, no one to bug you, no one to interrupt your precious me time; soft, scented, perfect temperature water; ambient lighting; a cool drink to slide on down your throat as you need it; mood music at just the right volume to soothe your cares away.

Eventually you reach a prune-like consistency and alas it is time to get your extremely relaxed and contented self outta the tub.. Therein lies the conundrum. You're not wedged in per se, but for all intents and purposes you may as well be. The amount of effort it's going to take you to get up and over the side (which now seems as high as the great wall of china) is surely akin to rescuing a beached whale. Yup, you're floundering around at high tide and it's still not enough to float your arse back out where you belong. Only problem is, no bravely dedicated volunteers to rescue you. No one else is home, remember. Even if there is someone around, I bet you're unlikely to let anyone see you so discombobulated.

And so begins the drawn out process of placing your hands just so, after first berating yourself for being like aforementioned beached whale, heaving yourself over onto your side, repositioning your hands, heaving again until you're on your stomach. Must stop to take a breather, praying to Powers That Be that your bloated, fat, stupid, horrible, and ugly self did not slosh water all over the floor, somehow getting up on your hands and knees, then leaning on the sides with your hands and like some leviathan rising from the deeps you haul your way free of the water's clutches, and then realise you're too languid and heavy to move a muscle. So there you stand, hoping that the friendly little bathroom elves will magically dry you so that you don't have to do it yourself. And you swear that you'll never have a bath ever again.

Until the next time when the vicious play is acted out in all its abominable glory once more.

Unlike Captain Ahab, I've successfully killed my whale. Tonight I was nearly as agile as a dolphin! I could roll over, lay on my side, even swish my hands up and down past my hips. The best bit, I can get out of the bath without any rigmarole whatsoever. Hands on side, bend knees, place feet on bottom of tub, apply appropriate pressure and stand up. Then with nary a care in the world, and short hop, I'm a landlubber once more.

There's still a way to go until my belly isn't left high and dry when I'm actually in the tub, but I'm working on it. Soon enough any rubber duckies that happen to be sailing the waters o' the bath tub will lose sight of the great white blubber for good! “Land ahoy?” Nah tis just their imagination.

I'm glad my muse practices catch and release. Now that the idea is played out, this lil' fishy's off to bed!

*(Don't know if I've mentioned it here or not, but I use one of these, with the top hole covered with tape:

why? Because I don't know about the rest of the world, but I know Australia doesn't have overflow drains in their bath tubs. And so those in my homeland who've never travelled over here before may well be as mystified as I was the very first time I ran a deep bath as usual, and all of a sudden I was only sitting in a few inches of water. Rude shock lemme tell you! I'll take a photo tomorrow of the overflow drain when there's better light and post it.)

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