Discovering the Jacuzzi Tub

We’ve been in our condo for nine months. I’m a shower person, but this week I finally tried out the Jacuzzi tub. I was motivated by the fact that it was time for the “bathing suit” shave (aka Gyn exam shave). I’m sure you women readers are nodding in understanding. Men, just use your imagination.

I’ve previously shaved in the regular tub in our guest bathroom, but that was for basic (to-the-knee) cleanups. That tub has some drawbacks. Chief among them: the lighting isn’t great and the stopper doesn’t work properly. I have a rubber disk that covers the drain and looks a bit like a diaphragm. I use it when I travel to “affordable” hotels, so it’s in my dopp kit in our first floor master bath. The guest facilities are on our second floor and I’m not about to streak downstairs when I’m naked and shave-ready.

To give you an idea of what an ordeal this seasonal ritual is, I’m sharing an experience I had when I was category manager for first aid at Colgate Palmolive around 1986. I met with the inventor of the Nautilus exercise machines about a vaguely defined business opportunity. Mr. Nautilus (Arthur Jones) had me flown from Miami to his R&D facility (and crocodile preserve) in his corporate jet. As I walked to the building, I passed a glassed-in enclosure that held a very large gorilla. A sign identified him as Mickey.

I won’t bore you with the details of the business discussion. After it was over, we were served a healthy lunch, at which at least a dozen folks were gathered at a long table, with Jones at the head, of course. I was on his left, two or three seats down. He made a non sequitur suggestion that I should mate with Mickey, because the offspring would be very strong and smart. Clearly, he wanted to embarrass and emasculate me. I should probably mention that back then, when I was around 40, I was still hot and fly.

I absorbed the insult for perhaps three seconds and laughed. Then I responded. “Oh, that would never work. I’m half Italian. The hairy jokes are bad enough without mating me with a gorilla. Our kids wouldn’t have a prayer.” Everyone at the table went into hysterics and Jones gave me a wide berth from then on. Needless to say, the business venture never came to fruition. His 2007 New York Times obit says he had 6 wives. Wikipedia cites his motto: "younger women, faster airplanes, and bigger crocodiles."

But I digress. Back to the subject at hand. I’ve discovered that the Jacuzzi has awesome benefits, even without using the jets. No, I haven’t tried those yet. Small steps (and stop smirking…) For one thing, because that tub is square, I can stretch my legs fully if I sit on the diagonal. If you can’t do that, just wait. If you’re my age, you’re probably shrinking an inch or two a year.

The lighting is so much better there, too, because that corner is not enclosed or curtained. When I put on my glasses, I can see every wayward hair. The lenses don’t fog up the way they do in our stall shower. When I do a basic shave there, it’s by feel, which usually results in random tufts left behind. Not attractive.

The Jacuzzi stopper works perfectly and the controls are conveniently within reach since I’m sitting on an angle. The only downside was that the bottom of the tub, which is wide in all directions, was like a skating rink when I finished my toilette. It took me about five minutes to figure out how to get out of it. I had to get on my knees by the faucets and grab onto the spigot so I could rise slowly into a crouch. This afforded me a close look at my newly-shaven legs, and I decided it was well worth the struggle.

I’m seriously considering buying some bath salts, bringing in a few scented candles from my husband’s store, and taking a nice, long soak once in awhile. I might even reconnect the central AV system so I can pipe in some relaxing music. You’ll notice that I haven’t mentioned figuring out how to turn on the water jets. Let me remind you: small steps.