So, life has delivered a swift merciless kick to your very being, and you’re cradled over trying to stop your dignity from prolapsing. That’s okay! We’ve all been there, girlfriend. You’re going to fix it all with a single bath bomb.
I’m gonna need you to rummage deep within your apartment and find that bath bomb you bought that one time. Ignore the voice telling you that your life is a sham and you should just take all your belongings and money and get on a one way flight to somewhere remote in Europe and live the rest of your life as a cow-milker. You know your fingers won’t be able to handle it. You don’t have the grip!
Now that you’ve located the bath bomb, you’ve earned yourself a little break. Sit by your tub in nothing but a towel and stare off into the abyss. Set a timer for yourself so you don’t lose track of time as your mind becomes blank and all you hear is an increasingly loud buzzing. You can ignore that. The buzzing is just all your thoughts blurring together into an unintelligible mind-scream. It’s not important.
DING! Your allotted blank-staring time is up. Now get in the tub and use some body wash and shampoo. Use the shower function if you can. You should be clean before you soak in your own filth.
Now it’s bath bomb time! Let the original water go down then begin filling in the tub with warm water. Test what temperature is right for you. You might not feel anything because your senses have been dulled after being crushed by an emotional 18 wheeler but that’s okay because it means you can make the water a little hotter.
It’s almost time to start piecing your shattered self back together! Now climb into the tub and note how the water rises and spills a little out of the tub, making a mess that at least isn’t as bad as your life. Turn the water off and mutter to yourself “at least that’s one thing I can control”.
Now take the sacred bath bomb and drop it in the water. Watch it fizz and inhale deeply as it fills your small bathroom with the scents of lavender, vanilla, and something called tonka. Breathe deeply and recite the following ancient Pinterest hymn:
Yaaaaaaaas queen. You are a #girlboss. You are gold baby, solid gold. She believed she could so she did. Though she may be but little, she is fierce. Always sparkle, darling. Hillary. Rodham. Clinton.
Uh oh, mentioning HRC has put you back in the grips of a crippling depression. That’s okay, you can focus on the bath bomb. Look how it fizzes. Look how it swirls. Look how it floats in water coated with your dead skin cells and weird stuff from the city pipes. Grab some deep conditioner and apply it to your hair while contemplating whether you should just shave your hair off and eat it because nothing makes any fucking sense anyway.
This is a good time to go on your phone. Sit in the tub and scroll through your social media. The distraction is good for you, especially the heroic effort you need to make to not drop your phone in the tub. Looking at your phone, you remember once more why you’re so upset. This is a phenomenon known as getting “re-pissed” while still maintaining the original amount of pissed. Scrunch up your face and throw your phone at the laundry pile in the corner of your bathroom. This is the most emotion you’ve exhibited in the last 24 hours.
The water’s getting cold now. You don’t know how much of this scented and dyed water is creeping up your butthole. Maybe you’ll get pregnant with a weird alien baby. Why is there glitter all over your body? No one told you there was glitter in this!
Let the water go down and rinse off with fresh water. Contemplate how much water this whole experience has wasted and decide to just straight up not shower for the next three days. You were just gonna stay in bed staring off into space anyway.
Everything is still the worst. But at least you smell good.