Tomorrow is Bubble Bath Day- and to tell you the truth, I don't see what all the celebration is about.
Bubble Baths are hugely over rated as far as I'm concerned, and we have all been scammed into believing they are the ultimate in relaxation and personal indulgence.
Hollywood has long promoted the adult bubble bath as a seductive and tantalizing practice wherein lovely ladies coyly smile up from a mound of foamy soap, flauntingly exposing a lean ankle and painted toes... propped up on the faucet. Usually there's some huge hunk of cowboy biceps grinning down in approval.
Doesn't happen. Not in real life.
First of all, I can never get the water the correct temperature. I tend to run it very hot, as I like warm baths, but I usually poke in a foot that retracts back like a frog snatching a fly. Then I stumble a bit, flip over the scented candles, saturate my towel, slip on the wet tile -and then see my husband looking down on me like he's watching a trick at Sea World.
By adding a small amount of cold water, I finally have the proper temperature adjustments required for a perfect bubble bath. But then one must make that critical decision about what type of bubbles to utilize for the best results.
Do you want fizz, essential oils, milky silkiness, exotic fragrances, healing aromatherapy, deep cleaning effervescence or plain old rubber ducky soapsuds?
Some people love to read a book or magazine while enjoying their bubble bath. I've tried that with negative results. Every time I turn a page, the water rolls down my elbows and soaks the book. I just don't understand how people do it without a bathtub desk. (Which I am going to invent someday.And not one of those flimsy tray holders you see at Bed, Bath and Beyond. I'm talking a major piece of furniture. That can hold reading material, a bottle of wine, crossword puzzles and and extra bubbles.)
I guess I'm doomed from the start. My bubbles normally last a total of one minute, thirty-nine seconds... in a bath I'm hoping to enjoy for at least fifteen minutes. That means for thirteen minutes and twenty-one seconds, I am laying in cold water with no bubbles,totally exposed like a beached whale- with magazine print on my face and hands.
I tried to celebrate Bubble Bath Day this morning.
My husband walked in and I slowly lifted an ankle to the faucet, fluttering my eyes and pursing my lips...in a lame attempt at a movie star pose.
And a blatant effort at flirtation.
He stared down at me a minute.
Lifted his mouth in a disgusted smile and said, "You need to trim your toenails."
"Well...ugh..I..ah...," I stuttered as he walked off.
And then I shouted after him- "Well, You need a cowboy hat!!!"