Bath time is interfering with celeb crush fantasy time

Never underestimate the ability to bathe independently, my friends. Never.

I alluded to this problem last year when I was non weight-bearing for 6 weeks. The bathing process, once taken for granted, has become a structured and well-planned procedure (read: Nazi-like). Like last year, I am unable to get in and out of the tub independently. Well, to be honest, I think I could do it alone...but I don't really feel like risking my future as a walking individual to prove a point. I interviewed various applicants for the position of "Kirstie bather," and although I had an abundance of eager individuals applying for the position, hubby Evan got the job. I can hear some of you saying, "Ahhh, that's romantic." Yes, the idea of bathing with your hubby, candles lit at bath side, a little Marvin Gaye playing in the background, and bubbles filling my luxurious tub certainly sounds romantic. Although I do really appreciate the fact that my husband bathes me daily, my bathing process is NOT romantic. Not at all. Not even a little bit. There are a few major reasons:

Wow, Kirstie! You look...different

1) I presently look like an emaciated 10 year old boy - Due to a loss of about 20 pounds or so (I blame stress, meds, and an angry angry stomach), my body has changed. And not for the better. I know some of you are saying, "At least you didn't gain weight! I wish I could lose 20 pounds!" What you don't understand is that the 20 pounds I have lost have completely fallen off all the important areas that differentiate a male body from a female body. Got it? I resemble a 10 year old boy who needs a good sandwich. Last time I checked my hubby's internet history, he has no romantic interest in 10 year old boys (Thank god!!) So, as my hubby is gently dropping me into my tub, I can guarantee you that he has no interest at that moment in "jumping my bones." Literally. Ha.

Side rant (friends: not directed at you):  You probably wouldn't comment on a person's weight gain, so why do we think it's OK to comment on a weight loss when it's obviously a side effect of ill health? Scrunching up your face disapprovingly and saying, "Ewwww, you've really gotten too skinny," to someone you do not know well is inappropriate. We worry so much about being sensitive to weight gain, but it works both ways. Mini-rant over. I'm going to eat a cheeseburger. 


2) Oops - I forgot about you - Last year, my hubby forgot about me while I was bathing. He seriously forgot that I was in the tub and would eventually need help getting out. It was alarming. I hated his face for a few days, I'm not going to lie. I lay shrivelled in my bath screeching, "EVAN!" contemplating my fate and imagining CSI discovering my shrivelled dead body soaked in dirty bath water. I seriously do NOT want to die naked in my tub, especially given 1) (see above).  This unfortunate incident has affected my ability to relax during bath time. Although Evan reliably lays in our bed with his computer as I bathe a mere 20 feet away (trust me, he doesn't want to forget about me again either!), I find myself frequently requesting objects to ensure that he is fully committed to my bathing process. "Evan, can you grab the shower gel that smells like lemons? No, that one is oranges. I would like lemons, please." "Evvvvv, I need the intensive conditioner - it's Tuesday!" The bottom line is that it's no longer relaxing or enjoyable for either me or Ev.

3) We are in a time crunch, people! - When I first returned home from the hospital, everyone was extremely accommodating. You want an apple picked from the neighbours tree, third branch down? You got it. As time passed and I became healthier and happier, I noticed that my caregivers were not as keen to fulfill my every desire. Specifically, the timing of the bath became a major issue for Ev. He felt as though my bath time was getting later and later every night. He's decided that in order to function at the best of his abilities, he requires 8 hours of sleep a night; therefore, my bath time must accommodate his sleep schedule. Fair enough. Let's compromise.

The real problem is that his optimal bath time is interfering with my TV schedule. TV is currently a very very important part of my day. It's entertaining. It passes my time. And I have a confession to make: I have a serious TV celeb crush right now. Let's see if you can guess. I faithfully watch 3 programs a week: The Bachelorette, Real Housewives of Orange County, and The American Baking Competition.

90% of you probably guessed that I have a crush on one of those dorky bachelor dudes. Nope (thank god she booted Brandon. Can you say mommy issues???? Ick).

I have a crush on.. Paul Hollywood, celebrity judge of The American Baking Competition. I hear crickets chirping. You don't know Paul Hollywood, do you? This guy just has that little somethin' somethin' that just does it for me. He's very debonair (I've been waiting my whole life to use that word). Perhaps it's the mature salt and pepper goatee, the sultry British accent, or the way his blue eyes pierce through my soul when he says, "Lovely. Well done!" I also like that he's perfectly honest with the contestants. He will bite into a dry cookie and exclaim (in sultry British accent) "Rubbish!"And his last name is "Hollywood." Can he get any more perfect?

Oh Paul Hollywood, you sexy beast. 

I read somewhere on pinterest that it's totally healthy to have silly fantasies about celebrities whilst maintaining a happy marriage. I mean, it's not like this is going to develop into something real (Paul: if you're reading this, call me! wink wink).

Picture this: I'm all settled on my couch, knee iced and elevated, watching my Paul bite into the most decadent looking chocolate cake I ever seen (Francine, you really do make fabulous looking cakes, girrrl!) As Paul Hollywood licks the chocolate frosting off his lips, I fantasize that he is hand-feeding me that chocolate cake, sensually whispering, "lovely" (in sultry British accent). After he delicately wipes the chocolate from my lip, we will obviously start to snog (that's how you make out in Britain - you snog). I can picture those chocolate flavored lips on mine, that salt and pepper goatee gently grazing my cheek, his hands gently caressing my...

"Kirst! Bath time!!!!"

Damnit. Are you freaking kidding me?

"Give me 15 minutes, Ev!!!"

"Need to be asleep by 9:30 to reach my 8 hours of required sleep time. Kirst, let's go!"

"I'll forfeit conditioning my hair tonight. Just give me 15 minutes. Pleeeeeeeeease!"

Sigh. Never mind. The moment has passed.

Ugh. Stupid bath time. Not fair.