My Tub

A girl and her tub should not be messed with. My full-body slnklng passel with relaxing jets is my form of relaxation in this rat consort called life. flush though, I am surrounded by dirty clothes, piles of forget cosmetics and beauty products with plastic toy animals staring at me, I am alone. I lock the door and barricade myself from my husband, two small boys, environ calls, laundry, and life. I acidulate off the overhead light and let the infixed sunrays from outside come through the window.I might exfoliate the soles of my tired feet or I might run the dull razor up and tweak my hairy legs, but mostly I Just sit. I make full my eyes while putting up my feet and letting my mind race to an imaginary world where things are simple. I let the heat from the eager water steam up my glasses. I let the heat turn my skin pink from the extreme temperature differences in the room and melt absent my stress and worries.The sweat runs vanquish my face and mixes with the washed awa y make-up, dirt, and tears. It forms puddles and trickles d avouch my body and drift away In the Immense pool. I seize all of lifes dilemmas, family squabbles, and work stress on deserted island in the bathroom. And when it is over, I would like to think they all disappear down the drain for a temporary leave. This is my secret clubhouse that I retreat to for relief. My tub is my own and should not be messed with.