Inspired by my SP's generous gifts of bath smell-goods, last night I decided to have a long, relaxing soak in the tub. I dug out some candles I had had for ages and a couple I had found in my cared-for-person's home. (C-f-P's daughter said I could have them-they had been in the house for years.) I put my cd player, a bottle of water, and my current book in the bathroom. I took a shower (floating in all my body dirt, ick), then started the water to fill the tub. I threw in, I mean, gently added, three roses of my new Gardenian Lily. I realize Gardinian Lily and rose don't go together but they do look like roses and they are called roses on the box and this is not important, so just skip this sentence. I set the candles in strategic feng shui places, and started lighting them. The old ones from C-f-P's home went phuttt and burned up in two minutes. I didn't know candles ever did that but, no matter, my other candles were burning nicely.
I must digress for just a moment. I am not a frou-frou person. I used to be before I acquired my surplus tonnage but now I just figure it's a waste of time. I no longer paint my fingernails or toenails (actually, I can't even reach my toes). I seldom wear makeup, my eyes tend to be puffy and, although my face is fairly wrinkle free for my age, when viewed in a magnifying mirror (because of my severe near-sightedness) it's a sight to behold. Having a fairly wrinkle-free face is why I don't lose weight. Losing weight will make all my wrinkles pop out since all the surplus fatty tissue that is nicely plumping them out now would disappear causing wrinkles while, meanwhile, gravity would take over thereby causing my entire facial skin to sag to my collar bones.
Digression continued: I do love a nice soak in the tub. I like the old claw-footed tubs; they're nice and deep and wide and longer than the newer ones. The tub in this house is not deep and wide and long. It's a fiberglass all-in-one tub and shower with little niches for soap and whatnots. The little niches are slick and things that are put there do not stay unless they are put on a washcloth or atop a big blob of Super Glue.
My bath was ready, the candles were lit, the lights were off, the water bottle and book were close to hand, and I had placed a large folded towel at the back of the tub so I could recline in comfort. The aroma was heavenly and the water temperature was just right. I put my head on the folded towel and propped my feet over the front tub edge. What comfort. What bliss. What a Zen moment. I reached for my book and realized I had forgotten to put my reading glasses on...well, crap! I heaved myself out of the tub, dripped water on a candle and doused the flame, dried my hands, got my specs, relit the candle and sank back into the tub. Ahhh, comfort, bliss. I took a swig of water, got my book and settled in for a long bout of skin-pruning and a good read. As Martha would say, "This was a good thing."
Very shortly I realized I would be unable to read as my glasses kept fogging up from the hot water. (Martha never said anything about that). I put the book aside and just soaked and sent myself calming, relaxing thoughts. I soon became aware that my tailbane was getting numb so I shifted position which caused my towel-pillow to slide off the tub. Oh, well, I didn't really need it since I was reading. The water cooled and I deftly used my toes to add more hot water. However, since I had showered first, there was no more hot water so I walked my feet up the wall over the faucets and sank the top half of the bod lower until the water filled my ears and my hair floated about me. Ahh, comfort, bliss. I felt very mermaid-ish.
All the water sipping had given me a pressing need to get out of the tub. However, the water had cooled and I had pruned very nicely so I was ready to get out and wrap myself in two or six towels. It had been a long time since I had spent so much time in the tub. And I was about to find out why...I couldn't get out. I heaved and nothing happened. I pushed with my feet and found my back had stuck to the bathmat. I tried to roll from side to side...did I mention this was not a wide tub? I tried for a sit-up maneuver (HAH! My six pack of abs had long since turned into a twelve pack of flab). I somehow reached with my left hand to grab the handrail on my right and by doing so knocked a candle off it's niche. Hot wax splashed down the right side of my, er, frontage. It was amazing how this gave me the extra energy I needed to get out of the tub. I rose up like Lazurus and splashed the cooling bath water on the wax. It wasn't painful anymore. The first contact with the bod had hurt for just a minute; it had mostly scared me and definitely...I think the correct word here is "galvanized" me into action.
I recovered, after a few unprintable thoughts about "Martha Moments", dried off, brushed my teeth and my hair, and flopped into bed. I had had a nice adrenaline rush from the candle wax and this was not conducive to sleep. I was not calm and relaxed. I was not sleepy. I could not read as I had soaked my book in my efforts to get out of the tub. I tossed and turned a bit and finally found some peace by resolving that all future baths would be taken while in a sitting position, no more reclining with a book. No more Zen moments. And absolutely no more candles.
I have decided that I am now a minus five on the scale of frou-frou-ness. I'll have to pass this info on to MY DEAR SP and any potential RAKers out there. The frou-frou bath was a bust...but I really did smell good.
