Some people cherish showers, seeing them as an opportunity to incubate with their thoughts, to escape external stressors, to get clean. I like being clean; I like having showered, but often the process is too tedious to enjoy the isolation and warmth.
Many of my friends shower every day; they shudder at the concept of being “dirty” for more than twenty-four hours. We are all, to some degree, dirty… all the time—even the second we step out of the shower. What is so bad about carrying some extra grime for more than a day? We’re just going to ripen again, probably within hours of showering.
I understand if you’ve exerted yourself to the point of noticeable perspiration. Sitting in your filth can be soggy and even itchy (sometimes I am convinced little cartoon gnats are swirling around me). But what if you’ve spent little energy during the day and know you’re just going to dirty yourself the next day? Save the effort of showering for when you stick and smell and have a job interview in the morning. Is grease accumulating on your scalp? Fine. Shower. Do you still feel fresh after a day but still feel obligated to bathe because of your skewed hygiene-related values? Wake up and smell the body odor. You watch too many Head & Shoulders commercials.
I would like to take this time to acknowledge that people take frequent showers due to anxiety or obsessive compulsion. Disregard my ranting; after all, I am just a gross, bitter girl clicking away on her laptop.
I stated my position on showering to my boyfriend. Knowing that showering is one of his favorite pastimes, next to video gaming and quoting Curb Your Enthusiasm, I wasn’t surprised that he presented a counterargument. He deemed showers unlike any other escape. On a walk, for example, you could be alone, sniffing pine trees and neglected dog feces, but in the shower you do not risk the possibility of a stranger passing by. Walks can be stressful; Will I have to offer a close-mouthed smile to a group of Lululemon-clad soccer moms? Will I shriek as an unannounced jogger brushes my shoulder from behind? According to my boyfriend, “Showers are the only place where you can be truly alone, because no one is going to walk in.” I told him not to be so sure.
After some thought, and some showers, I have come to appreciate certain bathing scenarios. Maybe I was coaching softball all day, not exercising myself but pacing around and demonstrating how to hit a ball. Mild physical exertion, moderate mental exertion. A hot shower would console my leg and shoulder muscles; you made a difference today, the steam would whisper.
The thought, I will love myself for this tomorrow, has become louder lately. I recently spent a weekend in Rochester, coaching in an indoor tournament. After our game on Saturday, I got back to my hotel room, which I was sharing with three other women, though I was alone for a few hours. I decided to shower. I will love myself for this tomorrow. Later that night, when setting our alarms for Sunday morning, one of the women asked, “Is anyone gonna need to shower in the morning?” I smiled to myself and shook my head no.
So perhaps how I feel about showering is similar to how I feel about exercising; sometimes I dread it, but I feel good afterward, physically and mentally. I like the feeling of glowing, pink skin gradually cooling down once it reacquaints itself with room temperature. I like knowing I have done it and don’t have to do it again until I’m no longer fresh. I like thanking myself the next morning.
