Personal Hygiene

When I was a kid, my dad used to let my brother and me race to see who could take the quickest shower. At the time, it seemed like a really good game. It was so much fun that I still remember it. Looking back, I see that he probably just didn’t want us to waste so much time. He’s also pretty cheap, so he likely viewed it as an added bonus that we were using less water.

Showers over the years have become more mundane. You hop in, get clean, and hop out. Sometimes you might even get distracted and sing a song or two or, in my case, add to a to-do list. China has changed me into the child I once was. Two days ago, I showered in 3.25 minutes. Yesterday I got it down to 3.

I tried to find a picture of my bathroom to give you a visual.
I could only find this picture of the dead bird on my shower window.
I'll take a picture as soon as I'm back in Beibei.

You might be wondering, “Why, Keri Ann, would you be interested in such a short shower?” Well, my friend, let me tell you about a little thing called warmth. This is something that I do not get to experience much of any more. On the bright side, it has turned showers into the competitive adventure they once were.

I begin my almost-daily ritual by going for a run. This heats up my body. If I’m not sweating, then I don’t get to go home. I run until I’m stripping off layers. Once I have achieved this body temperature, I quickly run home as to not lose it. I walk through my door and immediately remove any remaining clothing. If I have forgotten to close my curtains then I say a quick prayer that my neighbors do not happen to be looking in my windows at this precise moment.

I then step onto one tile. If I do not move my feet then that specific spot on the tile heats up and I can feel my feet again. I turn on the water. If it is freezing, then I turn it off and turn it on again. My water heater usually takes a few tries to actually turn on. Once the tepid water touches my outstretched hand, the race begins. Quick rinse, suds, body wash, final rinse. My hands move so fast that I frequently feel like I’m wasting my time teaching when I should really be honing my ninja skills.

I need more of this.

Once the water is turned off, and I’m wrapped in my towel, I strategically take one step with my left foot, being sure to only touch the ground with the font part of my foot. I learned this from my cat. Then I swing open the door and stretch my right leg just long enough to reach my slipper. I then slide my left foot into its slipper and stop the clock.

Dad should be proud.