Honoring the Woman I Was
Celebrating the woman I am.
There must be quite a few things a hot bath won’t cure, but I don’t know many of them.
Sylvia Plath
Everyone needs to pamper themselves a little. Some of us pamper ourselves a lot. I fall into the latter category.
The most self-indulgent moments of my day are the daily evening baths in my deep tub. My husband, a morning person, falls asleep at 9 pm every night. I settle in among the bubbles.
I honor my bath ritual as an indulgence now. Thirty years ago, when I was a new mother in a different marriage, l lived in a small condo. Baths were my link to sanity.
Babies are exhausting. Babies allergic to their mother’s milk especially so. As my hormones adjusted and my baby settled on soy, things improved.
We were still two adults living in a small two-bedroom condo with a baby. I don’t know how couples live in the tiny houses I see on television. I would slit my wrists.
My bath was a lifeline. I could relax, sink in the bubbles, and read a book. My epic baths began as a necessity.
Baths link my journey from frazzled twenty-five-year-old new mother to relaxed post-menopausal woman.
Hot, comforting baths honor who I was while celebrating who I am.
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