photograph: Pinterest

Dear Reader,

As long as I’m not paying the water bill, I’m taking 40-minute showers. I think about showering multiple times a day—sometimes letting the voices win and taking three showers before dinner. 

The reason I love to shower is because I love to dance. Those two aren’t inherently partners, but for me, they go hand-in-hand. When I’m showering, the water is scolding and the music is loud. It’s either funky R&B that gets anyone moving or it’s something to belt to with dramatic lyrics about unrequited anything. 

Despite wanting to be someone who dances like no one’s watching, I’m not. When people are around, I tighten up, and the most you’ll get out of me is a head bop, a shoulder swivel with a sassy look on my face, or a spin-around-swing-the hips. In the shower, I go crazy. I slide, I twerk, I saunter, I laugh. No one is with me and I have of my life. 

The amount of joy I get from singing and dancing in the shower is unmatched by anything I feel when I’m with others. I can feel it in my chest when I finally get under my sheets—all lotioned up and in my linen pajama pants—and I have to let out a deep sigh to commemorate the best part of my day.

This week, I had one of my best showers in a while, I texted my friend about it. I said, “I’m having a dance party,” end text, “like crazy style.” Her suite was about to go out for the night so she responded, “Yas” end bubble, “Us too, come danceeee.”

I thought about this for a second and then decided to stay in my room. Even with my closest friends, I wouldn’t be able to recreate the same level of joy I get from showering. However, this isn’t a chosen fate. I wish I could dance my heart out wherever, whenever, and without running up the water bill. I imagine the fun of being able to share the happiest moments of my day with my friends– I imagine being a carefree, joyous person who dances everywhere she goes. 

I know that no one would judge me for dancing– they would probably join in, but still, I can’t force chill. It’s just not who I am. So, I make do with my hour of freedom a day, saving that special feeling for the confines of a small communal shower at school or the comforting tile of my bathroom at home that I still remember my dad struggling with in 2008 when he convinced himself he was a contractor. 

I save my emotions for the shower–there, they can run wild without a second thought. I feel robbed when I can’t take my time during my nightly routine to turn up the music and dance my heart out, or cry on the tile floor. I don’t know what I’ll do when I have my own home and am responsible for the bills. I’ll have the move the party somewhere else, but without the constant flow of hot water, I know it won’t be the same. 

Love,

Isabella

P.S. Here are some of my favorite shower songs, and I encourage you to shower as soon as possible, for as long as possible.