A love letter to my bath

I never used to see the point in baths. I had the same outlook on them as Chandler Bing, “So what you just sit there stewing in your own filth?”. A shower is efficient, refreshing, easy. A bath takes too long to run, and what if after all of that bubble-fuss the temperature just isn’t right? What if my legs are too long and my neck gets stiff and my mum won’t stop banging on the door telling me to ‘get out’?

I never realised that with a dreamy cocktail of products, the right playlist, a few sweet vanilla-scented candles and a spare half an hour you can recharge your mind and body back into self-love mode.

Dear Bath, 

Thank you for being a friend at the end of a tiresome and challenging day.

Thank you for pulling the plug on all my stupid worries, releasing them into nothing where they belong.

Thanks for embracing my solitude and making me feel safe and cosy. 

Thanks for holding my body in a time capsule.

Thanks for making my skin feel silky and sexy. 

There’s a hella lot of power and magic in you. Thanks for being there the morning after – cleansing me on a hazy Sunday when my head is still fuzzy from the rum-fuelled night before. 

And then there you are again, cooling my aches and pains and holding my glass of red after eleven hours on my feet.

Thanks for adding an echo to those Stevie Nicks songs that are on repeat – making her sound even more beautiful. 

Thanks for being the Chill to my Netflix. 

You truly smell and feel like a dream. I’ve read some of my favourite lines from books right there, and thought some of my favoruite thoughts.

Thanks for letting me breathe and cry and laugh and dream. 

V

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