I Have a Fear of the Floors of Showers and Bathtubs

Oh god it feels better already just to say it out loud. Honestly I do not know when I figured out my strange dilemma. I do know that since I was a little girl I hated showering and bathing in general. I used to try and cut a deal with my mother that I would shower once a week (no matter what I had been doing throughout the week, which could include swimming in chlorinated pools and running around like a normal active child). I detested it so much and could not figure out why. Maybe I was scarred from when I used to bathe with my older brothers in my critically formative years. Why do parents feel like that is completely normal to throw all their children in the bath despite gender differences and significant differences in age. I call that laziness (shit, I will probably do it too), but they think we won't remember that shit. I can still bring that image to mind if I really wanted to. Very uncomfortable and awkward thought.

Anyways, my intense loathing of showering followed me right up to 8th grade. And let me tell you, those pubescent years in cuthroat middle school are not the years that I should be going into school with greasy hair and eau de body odor. I had it bad enough with braces, big poofy hair I had not yet learned how to control, and no boobs. (God I miss the days when I cried because a stupid middle school boy said I looked anorexic. That look is SO in right now.) Well it also happened in 8th grade that one of my brothers went away to college. I was pretty sheltered in my small Catholic school that I had attended since kindergarten, so it goes without saying thatI was pumped to see the crazy world of college. I stayed in the dorms with my brother's girlfriend one night. The night before I had stayed in my brother's dorm, but he refused to go out because he was obviously just as determined as my heinous Catholic school teachers to keep me sheltered.

My brother's girlfriend, however, decided to take me out on the town. Unfortunately, that involved us walking around campus looking for a party where I might not get butt raped by a stupid frat guy. No such luck, but I still felt pretty cool even after some drunk guy yelled out, "That girl looks like she's 10!!". I was 13 asshole, big difference. Back to the point. While staying in these fine dormitories my bro's girlfriend got up the next morning to take a shower, and I did not want to see like stupid/dirty little kid so of course I said I should take one too. Well my mother had packed my some lovely little shower sandals. And, wallah!, I got into that nasty community bathroom and took a shower and was not freaking out.

All of a sudden I realized the problem I had been struggling with all of my short life. I hated, was completely creeped out, and despised touching the bottom of the shower. I mean I had inexplicably stopped taking baths years prior to this incident, but now everything seemed so clear. From that day on I have been wearing shower sandals in the shower no matter where I was, even in my own bathroom in my house. I took them with me whenever I traveled, and when it was finally time for me to go to college I had the shower sandal routine down pat.

Unfortunately, while I was abroad I forgot to pack my handy dandy shower sandals. I was in a foreign country and did not know where yet to acquire such items and, hell, I had to shower. So I began to shower sans sandals in my foreign bathroom (it was cleaned everyday which made it easier). After months of not using sandals, I returned the United States intent on remembering to bring my shower sandals with me back to DC. Well, in my flurry of packing, I forgot my damn sandals. So here I am, living in my own very first apartment showering semi-regularly without the sandals. I still catch myself standing on the edges of my feet sometimes, but I seem to be getting over my weird disdain.

Today, however, was really a weird day. I have been a little down in the dumps: no money, school is boring, boy problems. So I thought I would treat myself to a little treat courtesy of my massaging showerhead. Unfortunately, it really did not do the trick today. I thought to myself, maybe I need to relax and sit down so I can get off. At this point I luminously stared down at the pink ceramic surface that is my bathtub. Mind you, I do not think I have taken a bath since 1991. Now, out of nowhere, I thought it would be nice to have a relaxing bath. I filled up the tub and squirted some of my body wash in it to create some bubbles and was preparing to get relaxed. I brought in my ipod with speakers and put on some Amy Winehouse and was ready to decompose. I sat in the tub, ignored the slimy sensation of the ceramic underneath my body and tried to convince myself it felt good. I mean, this is what all women in movies and on tv do to relax, right? Well just at that moment the batteries for the ipod speaker started to die, Amy Winehouse disappeared, and all that was left was me sitting in a nasty bathtub full of hot water. I could not do it. I had to get out. My first bath of the new millenium lasted about 3.5 minutes.

Ultimately, I do not feel relaxed. Instead, I feel like I need a real shower now to get this nasty water off of me. All a girl really needs is some weed. Unfortunately, I ain't got no money for that kushy kushy right now. Thank god I have generous friends.

Maybe I should tell my mom to fedex those shower sandals to me...