Usually a staple for psychotics and possibly sex addicts, I reappropriated the cold shower to normal people tonight. I jammed the temperature handle as cold as it would go, and instead of letting the shower warm up, I let it cool down. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was; the sound of that freezing water running gave me a knot in my stomach like I was heading to a much different type of shower.
For some reason, the thought of concentration camps didn’t end there. When I finally manned up and stepped inside, the cold hit me like a slap to the face. I couldn’t breathe, even though I was gasping and panting for all I was worth. My hands flew around hysterically, numb and useless. Although I thought that the lack of comfort would make me get out faster, I spent too much time huddled in the corner, wrapped up in my own arms, shaking violently, trying unsuccessfully to avoid touching the water.
The whole ordeal was over in less than ten minutes, and any thoughts I had about how refreshing it was had to be delirious, as I rubbed myself with a towel trying to scrub the goosebumps off.
All in all I don’t recommend this. Just do yourself a favour and stay warm. Save freezing your valuables off for when you’re a senior citizen doing one of those polar bear dives for no reason.
