Pardon me but I'd like to steam my vagina in peace.
If you're expecting Gwyneth Paltrow Goop-related content, the title of this bit of nonsense is as close to that as you're going to get.
Ok, so I’m not referring to my vagina per se (or anyone else’s for that matter) but is it too much to ask that we enjoy peaceful tranquillity as we steam our bodies? Who the fuck is steaming their body, you might well wonder. As it happens, quite a few of us are.
I enjoy swimming.
When I say swimming, I mean I favour the Old Lady Breaststroke Technique™️.
You know what I mean, where you ‘swim’ keeping your head above water so your hair doesn’t get wet. It’s not proper breaststroke at all, in fact, it’s a terrible way to conduct yourself in the pool. But if you want neck pain, and to get nowhere fast, it’s perfect. After I’ve done terrible swimming, I like to spend time in the steam room. Not, I might add, the sauna. I hate the sauna. I find the dry heat unbearable but give me damp hot humidity, baby, that’s what I crave after several lengths of the Old Lady Breastroke.
And what I crave equally as much is peace and ruddy quiet.
But this one time, that was not to be. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m happy to exchange *brief* pleasantries as I sit and sweat half-naked with strangers but I’m going to need those strangers to vomit up all their verbosity before they steam, yeah? Alas, it seems to be just my luck to meet people who feel they can take a verbal dump in my general direction. I clearly have a face that says, tell me everything, I’m a wonderful listener.
“They play Classic FM to stop unwanted behaviour.”
That was one of the first things she said to me.
After she opened the steam room door and we both said hello, I casually mentioned something about playing chillout Ibiza tracks instead. But apparently, that way sex lies. It’s a little-known fact that slow soft beats lead to orgies in steam rooms. Mozart is the answer. Pipe that guy through to the ears of perspiring punters and he acts like musical bromide.
At first, I thought she was joking.
She didn’t really think we’d all be fucking like rabbits left listening to a Del Mar Lounge Mix… did she?
“Yeah, it’s the atmosphere. People don’t need much encouragement.”
Oh.
Well, let me tell you right now, I can barely breathe in the steam room let alone climb on top of some guy (that I don’t know) and get busy banging nasties. I’m telling you, I’d fucking die if I did and that my friends would be an embarrassing death.
“Do you know anything about Maria Callas?”
Right, now we were talking about opera.
I told her exactly what I knew about Callas which is marginally more than I know about quantum physics. Thankfully she didn’t know much either but she’d seen a “fabulous documentary” about the soprano’s tragic life which was the reason for Maria’s raw vocal delivery—apparently.
I was beginning to realise that if this conversation were a business, I’d be the silent partner. She didn’t need me to respond but only to listen. I wish I had a waterproof writing pad, I could have made notes and offered a treatment plan.
“After forty years I’m finally putting myself first…” She didnt notice my eyebrows raise when she said that, why would she, she didnt know I was there. “…It took me having a nervous breakdown to realise that.”
I nodded (in)sincerely.
I felt it was the appropriate response. As I was now her therapist it was important to make her feel heard. She should understand that the steam room is a safe space, albeit an incredibly warm one.
“I’m a Taurean and so are all my very best friends. We’re loyal and love good food.”
This was the moment I wanted Jesus to make his return.
I crossed my fingers hoping he would swoop down from the heavens and say, “Look, love, we ain’t got fucking time for this”. But today was not the day for the holy rapture. The second coming would no doubt happen when I was actually enjoying myself.
Side note: I have nothing against people reading their astrological charts. Astrology is a bit of fun and it’s almost a comfort to know you’re not unique but that you have the identical traits as everyone else who shares the same zodiac sign as you. In all seriousness, to genuinely believe that all Taureans are loyal is mental. And what star/sun/moon sign loves bad food? I love good food and I’m a Capricorn.
“My daughter urged me to start painting again. She’s so like me…” Does she also corner unsuspecting strangers in steam rooms and reveal her entire life story to them? “…a deep thinker—wise beyond her years.” Funny, I wasn’t thinking that at all. “I didn’t want to start painting again after such a long hiatus…” Sounds painful. “…but I did it anyway, and I must confess, the picture was the best piece I have ever painted.”
She ordered some art supplies from Amazon although she didn’t like doing so. Presumably, the price point and ease of delivery swayed her decision from choosing a local supplier. I’m not judging (I love Jeff Bezos) but she didn’t need to go to the trouble of demonstrating false virtue for my benefit because, at this point, I only looked like I was listening. I was too busy fashioning a noose from my towel.
“Do you know anything about flowers? I’m going to paint the ones I’ve planted.”
This was the second time she’d asked me a question but by now I understood them both to be rhetorical. Anything I did say as an answer was swiftly met with more talk from her. It occurred to me that I was enabling this behaviour. The heat was becoming stifling. And as she rambled on about planting wildflowers in a makeshift meadow she was cultivating, I longed for a natural break in her stream of consciousness (steam of consciousness?) whereby I could make my exit. Experience told me that natural breaks were not her thing but the temperature was getting to me. Sadly, the heat had absolutely no effect on her ability to chatter.
But then by some serendipitous intervention, I was offered a reprieve. In reality, someone else wanted to use the steam room, and it being a rather small steam room, I offered up my seat.
I know. I’m a fucking arsehole.
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