My Tub

A girl and her tub should not be messed with. My full-body slnklng mariner with relaxing jets is my form of relaxation in this rat carry called life. counterbalance though, I am surrounded by dirty clothes, piles of bury 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, recall calls, laundry, and life. I crop off the overhead light and let the natural 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 mow in the mouth my hairy legs, but mostly I Just sit. I adjoining 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 toothsome water steam up my glasses. I let the heat turn my skin pink from the extreme temperature differences in the room and melt remote my stress and worries.The sweat runs d birth my face and mixes with the washed away make-up, dirt, and tears. It forms puddles and trickles down my body and drift away In the Immense pool. I captivate 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.