tepid whale spa
Tonight, I took a bath for the first time since the beginning of my pregnancy. Our house was all clean and shiny, and I'd just scrubbed the tub, and I thought that I would take advantage of the rare cuteness of the bathroom scene.
I got the candles all going, I dimmed the dimmer, I was psyched.
I like to sit in the tub while it fills. That's how I roll at bathtime, homey. So I sat there, heavy and wiiiiide, while it filled up.
I didn't make the water too warm, since I've heard that an overly hot bath can bring on labor. But that was going to be allright! Warm would be good enough! I was just so ready for my belly to get floating. That water was going to sing to me about my leaden boobs and belly, they ain't heavy.....they're my brother.....
I think my belly could have floated if my bathtub were three or four feet deep. Instead, my belly loomed over the tub like the Matterhorn, like a big fleshy Baked Alaska. Boobs, belly, nothing. Low tide, motherfuckers. Low tide.
And night was going to be falling any minute on that big, flesh beach, night and cold.
Plus also, the bath water just never got all that warm to begin with. It just wasn't in the mood. It was like, this is all I got. The warmth is away warming something else. Don't ask me what. It ain't here, is all you need to know.
I started scooping the lukewarm water frantically with my hands across the giant flesh foothills, up the mountain. Not relaxing, and also futile. Dave brought me a mug so I could pour the water a little more efficiently. No, no, not enough. He brought me a big hand towel to drape across myself, to spread the "warm" water across the whole scene. I dropped mugfuls of water on to my big soaking terrycloth landscape, to keep the "warmth" in. But wherever the water hit, it just called attention to how cold the towel had already gotten in that particular place.
I stuck it out in my wilted spa experience for many more minutes past the point where all hope had been lost already, because I knew I would need airlifting out of there. But then eventually I called the chopper I married, and he hoisted me free.
Suckball bathball whale belly spa time.