The ‘sloth & torpor’ category

Princess Bathtime

September 28th, 2016

One of the many reasons I envy my daughters

I love taking baths, but I hate my bathtub. I actually have a personal vendetta against built-in bathtubs. You know the ones I mean, and it’s likely you have one in your own house. They’re combined with a shower into the wall, surrounded by tile and expertly caulked for utter waterproofing. They’re low to the ground so you can get into them easily, hold an economical amount of water, and generally have an emergency drain located about halfway up the tub so you don’t accidentally flood your bathroom when you leave your tub running. They’re very well thought out in all of these ways.

The problem is, if you’re over four, they utterly suck to take baths in. I’m an average-sized person I guess. It’s not possible to submerge myself in my tub. I can’t even get the water over my flabby post-baby stomach, if you want the truth. About once every six months I start really missing baths, and decide to do it up. I draw a hot, steamy bath, plonk in some choice essential oils, light a candle, and get my book out. About ten minutes in, I’m shivering, squinting, and absolutely cranky.

This is all just context so you know why I thought it would be worthwhile to spend $45 to take a bath elsewhere. Truth be told, my wonderful huzz gave me a gift certificate to my favorite spa in Salt Lake City, the Kura Door—the best thing in town. I’ve gotten massages there before. Also, body scrubs and once, a pedicure. I may be a girl who love spas, so sue me.

I had never gotten the ofuro bath treatment before though, and holy hell. I have a new favorite thing.

Step 1

Attendant offers me 3 choices of exquisite Japanese tea to choose from. Despite my deep and abiding addiction to jasmine tea, I choose the herbal blend, because I am sickish.

Step 2

Attendant offers me 3 choices of Epsom salt blends. I choose the one with eucalyptus, same reason.

Step 3

Attendant averts her eyes as I get undressed and situate myself on a teak stool, then rinses me with warm bath water to get clean before the bath. This is an important part of the ofuro bath. You must be clean before you get in, you heathen.

Step 4

She leaves and I climb into luxurious, deep square bathtub with beautiful, shiny fixtures from which pour hot, hot, hot water. On the wooden rim of the bathtub, the following are expertly arranged: my tea, steeping in a traditional Japanese ceramic pot; a lovely little teacup to match; cucumber lemon water in a pitcher with a metal cup; and two cold cloths with two cucumber slices for my eyeballs. That’s it. No iPhone, no books, no magazines.

Step 5

I lie there for a full half hour, staring into space and thinking about absolutely nothing.  I have never been so relaxed in my life.

You can be sure that this was $45 well spent. 

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