Here’s a revelation for you: an insight to the women who is Lisa Lintern.
I don’t like baths.
I know, I know. Having a bath is supposed to be one of the most relaxing and therapeutic things a person can indulge in.
Nope. Not for me.
Don’t worry. I’m clean. I’m quite clean in fact. I’m a massive fan of steaming hot showers. I love cranking up the hot water, hanging my head, and rocking back and forth in my own steamy trance. This I could do for hours.
So it’s not the act of cleaning myself that bothers me. It’s the actual bathtub that gives me the creeps. I find nothing therapeutic or relaxing about them. In fact, whether they are new or old, or scrubbed cleaned to the point of sparkling, I think bathtubs are skanky. Cesspits for fungal creatures waiting to swim into my various orifices the minute I submerge.
If I do allow my naked (and tightly clenched) butt cheeks to descend into a bath I must have lots of bubbles to block out the view of what might lurk below. And when I sit there, tense, all I can think about are the thousands of other naked bottoms that have sat there before me. That other people’s pubic hairs may be cavorting like syncronised swimmers around my legs.
But the last straw for any bathing experience would have to be the floater. That little dark unexplained speck bobbing amongst my bubbles. I’d rather deal with a Huntsman spider than a bath floater. It’s usually my cue to get the hell out of the bath and into the shower.
So no. For me there is nothing relaxing about taking a bath.
Hello, my name is Lisa and I’m a bathaphobic**.
What weird ‘phobias’ do you have?
*It was the only thing I could come up with for today’s blog post
**A madey-upey term