I Was Here, I Lived, I Loved
There is nothing in the world as quite as wonderful as a bath.
I like them best in giant old clawfoot tubs, the kind you can fill right up to your chin, but I’m not picky. I will happily get in any old tub, just as long as I’ve bleached it beforehand. Hotel tubs, gross as they are, are a last resort if I’m really desperate.
As a child, I would watch my mom pour her almond-scented Jafra oil in the tub and luxuriate there, forgetting she had two little blonde children demanding her attention if just for awhile. I wasn’t allowed to use the Jafra, which meant I wanted it more than anything. I’d sit in our peach-painted bathroom that perfectly matched the magic oil inside the bottle, and inhale its sweet scent. The one time I snuck some (and got caught) was the most magical, decadent bath of…
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