Monday, August 20, 2012

Slick, you ain't.....

I'll admit it here, out loud, for the first time that I have shower anxiety.

I totally blame it on Alfred Hitchcock, Janet Leigh and the shower scene from Psycho.

(If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend that you do NOT)

I don't like taking showers when no one else is home to help prevent Norman Bates (don't look him up) or any act-alikes from invading my bathroom space.

While I'm showering I always imagine I hear things.

The thought of which causes me to open my eyes in order to scan the small area where I stand naked and poised for victim-dome.

Which leads to shampoo and/or face soap entering and stinging my eyes.

Forcing a total head submersion (including both ears) under the shower stream.

Leading (of course) to total blindness, deafness and a vulnerability I'd rather not have (or even think about having).

So yesterday, for the millionth time this scene, in all it's insane insanity, played itself out.

I was under the water rinsing the soap from my eyes.

With that accomplished I tilted my head all the way back, stuck it under the shower head and rinsed the shampoo from my hair.

For a single solitary 30 seconds or so I was off guard and totally enjoying a moment free from thoughts of being attacked and stabbed to death in the shower.

As I brought my head forward, I slid my hands down from the top of my head towards the ends of my hair to get most of the water out.

Instantly I froze and took note of my surroundings.

 My eyes confirming what my gut had just told me.

Something/someone..??? was in the bathroom with me.

And that something/someone was attached to a cell phone that was being held up over the shower curtain recording my every move.

In an instant I did a memory scan (did I just wash my butt twice while on camera...?)

I bit my lower lip and without saying one word I looked straight into the camera and shook my head.

Wordlessly I picked up both hands and flipped the camera off.

F-u style.

The perpetrator had no idea that I was on to him and that he was being observed.

I watched as he silently pulled his recording device from the spot above my head.

I gave him a second or two to get out of the bathroom.

While he was outside the door reviewing his "catch",  I was on the other side of the bathroom door planning my retaliation.

I'd left the shower running and hid, dripping wet, behind the bathroom door.

It didn't take him long to watch the small film, see that he'd been caught, and turn to come back into the bathroom.

The counterattack was unexpected and (I might add) hilarious.

He fought me for all he was worth.

I punched him and called him names like "pervert" and "faaaa-reeeeeek".

I yelled "that'll teach ya" as I slapped at his head and tried to bite his arm.

After more than 30 years you'd think he'd learn.

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