In Defense of Baths

ToeSock Takes to the Tub


Quick, think of the first five things that come to your mind when I say the word “bath.” Ready? Okay, go!

1. Romans
2. rubber ducky
3. bubble (as in bubble-bath)
4. -tub (as in bath-tub)
5. totally, ridiculously awesome and more cleansing than a shower.

Now that’s a ringing endorsement if I ever heard one. Not too many things have that kind of associative star power backing them up. Just look at the lovely list that comes to mind. Nothing compares to the quiet dignity of a bath. No-thing com-pares. For example the top five things people most often associate with an entity as unequivocally lovable and cute as little baby puppies?

1. snuggly
2. yelping
3. mount saint wrigglesworth III
4. pound- (as in pound-puppies)
5. urination.

As you can see, not as nice. Most people already consider baths to be much lovelier than little baby puppies or showers. This is common knowledge. Intelligent folks—those "in the know," those who are hip and cool, and down with the language of the streets really 'heart' baths. "Showers are for suckers," they say while standing laid-back against a graffito-tagged brick wall with cigarettes dangling from their lips. But there are a select few who would beg to disagree.

Now I know what you’re thinking. You can't fathom the idea that a rational human being capable of speech and basic motor skills could come to the conclusion that showers are somehow more pleasant or 'better' than baths. But these people exist! I encounter them every day. This manifesto is for the select few who think that the ineffective watery mist-like provision of a showerhead is somehow more sanitary than a good, wholesome bath. Obviously I'll make converts of them all.

Picture this. You're standing in the bathroom after a long day at the office/tollbooth/bar/brothel. If you are a man and/or unattractive you’re wrapped in a nice plush towel. If you’re a hot young lady, the towel is obviously superfluous. You stopper the drain in your bathtub and crank the hot water way up. The pleasant thundering of the water soothes your frazzled nerves. You haven't even gotten in and already the bath is working its magic. You open the cupboard and fish around for your bottle of bubble bath. You pour in just the right amount of the delightful smelling liquid. It is an understated aroma of soap and unicorns. You imagine the princess from the Legend of Zelda might smell like this.

You go through your bath checklist. Bottle of beer? Check. Paperback novel that has been dropped in the bath five times before? Check. Rubber\ ducky or an assortment of other bath friends? Check. Plush towel within grasping distance? Check. Absence of cell-phone, television, any and all food items? Check. By this time the suds and water have risen to the appropriate level. Are you ready? It is time.

Now the true power of the bath is decentralized, its greatness being a many-headed hydra of wonderment. The first aspect of the bath's greatness is its storied history. Baths have been the preferred means of cleansing oneself since the dawn of time. Adam bathed. Eve bathed. Lilith bathed. Sometimes Eve and Lilith bathed together. Jesus was a friend of the bath as well. He even performed a few minor miracles involving baths. When Cripply Joe wandered in from Hepshetzutsville, Jesus turned wine into bubble bath and behold! Cripply Joe's dirt was banished to the realm of wind and ghosts. And he could walk again without a limp. All due to bath's life-restorative properties.

The Romans brought the bath into its heyday, a heyday that has never really passed. Roman senators lounged around the bathateriums for hours, bad-mouthing the Caesar. The English almost destroyed the ritual of the bath. Under their far-reaching empire you couldn't travel three hectares without encountering an Indian, an Islander, or an American Colonist who frowned with puritanical lips of disapproval upon their colonizer's unkempt non-bathiness. And that brings us pretty much up to modern times. In the future I've heard we will have zero-gravity baths where you can float in and out of an amorphous water-blob whenever you wish. Now that's something to look forward to.

The second aspect of bath's greatness is its unbeatable clean-ability. Your body just can't help but give up its stubborn dirt accretions when it is completely submerged in watery goodness. By comparison, your average shower is much less effective. Do you know how many pores you have? Scientists estimate the average person to have eight bazillion pores. These same scientists then studied the splatter ratio of ten different brands of showerheads. What did they find? On a body composed of such an amazing amount of pores even the most comprehensive of showerheads only covered ninety percent of a human being's epidermis. That leaves a stunning one hundred and seventy bagillion pores unwashed. And human beings are lazy. Most aren't going to go out of their way to sweep those tiny droplets over their remaining skin. Baths know all about human laziness and do the work for you. The longer you soak, the less that dirt will be able to hang on.

Now I find that the most common complaint of non-bath types is this. "How can you stand just laying around in your own filth?" My answer is three-fold.

a) just how dirty do you believe me to be? I don't work in the mines. I don't win marathons and have jars of celebratory jam poured over my victoriously fit body. And I'm not your local poopsmith. I'm just a regular Joe with a regular day's worth of dirt. Not enough to pollute an entire bathtub.
b) Warm water opens pores and frees dirt. Said pores remain relaxed and don't re-acquire the now free-floating specs of dirt. As the free-floating specs wander about they are completely consumed by the molecular soap-beasts that patrol the tub's high seas. With all that soap in the water I assure you it is cleaner than when I first got in.
c) The warm water also performs wonders on aching muscles and sore joints. Can that puny mist from your showerhead claim this capability? I think not.

Now I know that the many benefits of bathing seem too good to be true. I bet your head is spinning about like a whirligig wondering how could you have been wasting all this time showering? I can't help you answer that. Not everyone is right all the time. But now you can be right for once in your sorry pathetic existence. Just make sure not to overdo your newfound pastime. Don't let your fingers and toes go all pruny, 'cause that is pretty gross. Just as the social drinker's two or three beers encourage him to be a scintillating public speaker while four, five, or ten beers turn the very same drinker into an incorrigible drunkard, so too will a bath's salubrious effects be enervated by over-doing it. Know when to say when. Know when it’s time to toss in your rubber ducky and reach for the plush towel.
Remember, always bath responsibly.