I’m the same, ain’t it funny how bath time has changed though?
Before we could walk or talk… they’d throw us in there… We didn’t even know the word death, but we were sure we were gonna. We didn’t like any other temperature upon our body other than the diaper, the zip up sleeper, and mom.
Then, once they figured out we could walk, talk, subsist in the tub without an additional two eyeballs on us… hell yeah… THIS, was fun!.. We’d get about one-sixth of the water on the bathroom floor.. Drown our floaty boat twenty times.. “Shoot” plastic army guys off the edge down into the ‘lake’.. And then get all pissy when it was time for mom to wash our hair.
As the years went by, bath time meant beddy by time, so we avoided. “Aw come on mom, lemme stay up another thirty minutes.. I can take a shower in the morning before school..” Usually didn’t work, but was worth the effort for occasional giving in. (Yes, I was a wimpy parent too.) Victor, you still are a wimpy parent. Bite me.
Teens. To hell with the baths. Quick shower. Gotta go. Meeting Billy and Smitty to play Indian ball. Seeya!
Twenty-something. Well. Freshly married, this would be a wonderful occasion to bathe together, but whothehell at twenty-something can afford a tub wide enough for two? So.. I’d just go watch! Sorry. Did occasionally. Twas fun!
Thirty.. Early forty-something. Baths were like Pavlov’ing. Did it ‘cause we had to. With a purpose. An express purpose. Mundane. Get it over with. Have ta.
Which… brings us up to present. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Friggin A Ray, THIS is heaven. I don’t care who calls on the phone. I could care less if the doorbell rings. I’ve even started this a full hour before Lost comes on. I’m relaxin’.
The sad part of bathing at fitty-something is…. All them years that flew by.. From the ‘shock’ baths… to the rubber ducky ones… the hurried ones.. The smooching ones… the mundane ones… our GD bodies change and start to notice all kindsa shit.
CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? MY LEG HAS WRINKLES! NO WAY! WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?
WHAT HAPPENED TO MY GENITALS? Oh.. never mind. They were hidden under my tummy. Sorry…. Damn them toenails need clippin’. Nah.. That’s a hella long way to reach. I’ll get ‘em tomorrow.
We lay back. And do nothing. We’ve never had so much pleasure doing nothing, perhaps until now. We actually soap and wash alla our parts, not like when we cheated at age fitteen. We’ve no desire for anyone’s eyeballs on our body.. And quite frankly, we perhaps have no desire to watch a mate bath now.
Ok. Out I go. WAIT. Get that body centered over that foot. It’d be hell slipping. The phone’s in the kitchen. Someone would call the paramedics after a few days wouldn’t they? And they’d see me… Naked. And fitty-something. Yes, center of gravity, ‘check.’
I’m so very glad I haven’t changed and that bath time is still the same.
I can’t wait for tomorrow. We’ll get those booster bars on the walls. Have thick carpeting for ‘when’ we fall.
And when we get to Golden Acres, hell, we can walk in on any ole’ hot chick taking a bath and it’ll be considered normal behavior.
I’m not so hep on parades any longer. But I love a bath.
Wrinkled body, you’re the one,
You make bath time lots of fun,
Wrinkled body I’m awfully fond of you…
(who who bee doh!)
Wrinkled body joy of joys..
When I squeeze you, you make noise!
Wrinkled body, you’re my very best friend, it’s true
(doo doo doo doooo, doo doo)
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