Evolution Day 3 – Bubble Bath ala Midlife Crisis

OK, so let me start this out by saying that I absolutely adore the women that work at the day spa I frequent.  Debbie, Caitlyn, Kimberlee, and Lien.  Four super human women, one happy place.  If you’re in Minnesota, go to The Mask.  Visit them.  Be happy.

That being said, I’d like to talk today about the evolution of the bubble bath in my life.  Let’s look at some snapshots in time:

5 years old:  Bathtime is a joy.  Mom puts bubbles in the bath and makes soap hairdos on me.  I come out squeaky clean and mom wraps me in a big towel and hug before sending me off to bed.

10 years old:  Bathtime is now my own, but I go grudgingly.  Why take a bath when you could be outside roughhousing, right?

21 years old:  Scheduled Thursday night time in the tub.  Candles, good bubble bath, and my razor, to make sure that your legs are shaved for the weekend, and whatever it may bring.  The bathroom door is open so I can watch Friends (Matthew Perry, Sigh…the man still makes me swoon…) and I have a glass of wine and relax -after all, when you’re 21, everything comes with liquor of some kind.

30 years old:  Long days at the office mean my bathtub is my haven.  My quiet spot.  The dog snoozes on the floor next to the tub, and I relax.  I also simultaneously wonder how the heck people read books in the tub and don’t get them wet, or freeze when the water gets cold.  Please feel free to share this secret with me if you know the answer.

42 years old:  What Fresh Hell is This?

Really.

Tonight, I took my first bath in…oh gosh, probably three years.  See, the bath tub is upstairs, and I live downstairs, and that’s just a lot of effort.  Dragging all my bath stuff upstairs, going back down stairs when I forget the towels, going back upstairs, drawing the bath, getting it just the right temperature, stopping getting the tub hot again, and finally getting in.  And that’s just the mental checklist.  Here’s how it really went.

I took a bath because I needed to shave my legs.  To say that there was a lot of work to be done is an understatement.  I pondered bringing the weed whacker into the bathroom, but decided against it, and opted for the 5 blade razor – time to bring out the big guns.  I drew the bath, threw a bath tablet in, and went downstairs to grab my towels, razor, shaving cream, and lotion.  I go back upstairs.  I reheat the bath.  I sigh, and get in the tub.

After settling in I realize that maybe I’m not as limber as I used to be.  Every woman knows that shaving your legs while in the tub is a job fit for a contortionist.  5 blades, shaving cream, and a slippery tub don’t exactly make for swan lake.

See, I’ve been going to my day spa and having my legs waxed for 5 years now.  It all started because I took a cruise, and did not enjoy the small shower and trying to shave my legs in it – so I had my legs waxed to avoid it all together.  And it was heaven.  Contrary to popular belief – it doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t require contortion nearly as much as shaving.  But I haven’t had my legs waxed in a while, and a weekend away snuck up on me…hence, my foray into the tub.

Legs.  Legs everywhere.  And I’m sorry ladies who haven’t been there, but menopause means not being able to reach everywhere you want anymore.  Ok, that’s a lie.  You can’t reach anything.

After a good 15 minutes of the most awkward piece of my 42nd year, thus far, I then realized my experience was capped off by having forgotten my towel.  and I’m pretty sure my legs are striped now.

I’m going to Mexico at the end of the month with my friend Amanda.  And I’m going to the mask before hand.  Lesson. Learned.