I’ve been floating a few tweets around about how my new clawfoot tub is neither practical nor entirely functional for a person of my size to shower in, but I feel it deserves a bit more attention. Especially after the ridiculous meltdown I just had in said clawfoot tub which almost resulted in my death.
As my roommates and I found out the hard way, the liner of the shower curtain needs to be completely inside the tub at all times during a shower. If not, water will flow directly onto the floor and soak the “super-absorbent” rug. The liner cannot only be inside the outer-facing side of the tub, because water will absolutely leak out the other side, through the not-at-all-water-tight space between the side of the tub and the wall and soak the “super-absorbent” rug. So, what started out as not that much space for me to stand in, initially, turned into an empty space the exact circumference of my body.
If having a space the exact circumference of my body in which to shower was my only problem, I may have avoided today’s near death experience. But it isn’t. The liner is basically two sheets of clear plastic that seem to be sucked in toward my body by some sort of fat-girl vortex, so that no matter what I do, or what temperature the water is (I thought perhaps it was a heat thing…I don’t know. I’m not a scientist), there is always wet plastic plastered against my wet, naked body while I’m trying to get fresh and clean. Always. This aggravates me on a good day.
As luck would have it, today isn’t a good day. I’ve been swirling around in a funk and my only explanation is a combination of years of pent-up emotions, my inability to process those feelings and a general distaste for my lack of accomplishment in all aspects of my life. Oh, and PMS. I don’t want to shock anyone, but underneath the LOLs and the constant snark, way down deep at the back of my psyche (behind all of my boyband facts and figures) feelings and emotions attempt to breed. They don’t know what they’re doing, though, so they usually end up manifesting in an inappropriate way, and it’s usually right around the time ol’ Eunice clears out my uterus. Curious.
The manifestation of the hot ball of stressmotionings (stress, emotion and feelings), as you may have guessed, came in the form of a full-on meltdown in the shower today. I straight up could NOT deal with the wet plastic clinging to my wet body and I freaked. I was crying hot tears that pretty much cemented the leftover mascara to my face. I was repeatedly and frantically slapping at the plastic in an attempt to get it OFF me. I semi-hyperventilated and almost drowned. And then I made the near-fatal mistake. In an exasperated classic tantrum move, I stomped my feet and flailed my arms. Stomping in a slippery shower/bathtub is dangerous on its own, but stomping in a clawfoot tub with absolutely zero flat surface for standing is just plain suicidal.
Clearly I have survived the misplaced rage incident, but the fall was a close one. I will have a bruised bum and I can only be thankful that the roommates weren’t here to hear the embarrassingly loud thud. That clingy liner is just lucky I didn’t take it down with me.
See you next time I drink an entire box of wine, stressmotionings.