The water needs to be hot enough to steam the three bathroom mirrors, and I need to brush my teeth before getting in. I start with my left arms, then my chest, then my right arm. Then the rest, sometimes in no particular order. (side note: i once showered with a woman who pointed out how violent i was towards my penis when i washed it. she had no idea how clean it needs to be if there was any hope of putting it to use later.) the back is so hard to wash. I find myself an inch away from dislocating my arm just to maintain a clean back. Is this where God messed up on us? Why is it so hard to do?
Then the lotion. The same issue shows its ugly head. Why, God, Why? But today I woke up, did my shower dance, then my lotion dance, and stood in the mirror when I came to the final waltz. “I’m not supposed to do this,” I thought. Lightbulb. Someone should be doing it for me. This sometimes impossible, but usually difficult act of self-grooming is proof that we are supposed to find that person who will have our backs. Right?
Find that person. Friend, lover, family. Find them and have theirs, too.