Is It a Woman In a Bath or Just a Platter of Luncheon Meats?

Don’t get me wrong, cold cuts can be a right tasty snack. Give me a slice of turkey or Black Forest ham and you might as well be sending me back in a time machine to my childhood! But — now here’s the twist — what if you walked towards a beautiful assortment of meaty appetizers just to realize that it’s actually a naked woman in a bathtub?!

I’ve recently stopped taking baths in order to avoid being accidentally mistaken for cured pork. No, I wouldn’t mind a little bite to the ear or tush every now and then, but not when I am vulnerable and trying to relax in a bowl of oils — bodily or otherwise. Some of you may scoff at my caution, but I urge you to look at the facts: Your body is laid out in front of you like a deli party tray. Normally, you may be able to identify your body as having an elbow here and an armpit there. However, when it’s all together on one giant porcelain dish, it’s a big, unfortunate mosaic of flesh tones and questionable textures.

It begs the question: woman or mortadella?

One can try to investigate in order to make the distinction. “What part is this? Is it supposed to look like that? This looks dry… And that’s unsettlingly squishy…” But this inner dialogue could just as easily be applied to the lunchtime dilemma of discerning between pastrami and roast beef. 

That’s the real trouble, when you start staring for too long. If you study a piece of baloney for long enough, or slices of sausage, I can bet you won’t want to eat it. I used to love pork but now that I’ve really looked at it… I want to wrap it up and never speak of it again. 

That’s kind of what happened in my last bath. It began super zen. Now, I want to start bathing with pants on to hide my kielbosa knees. If you were to give a dulled knife to a poorly coordinated teenager and tell him to slice a kielbosa sausage in half, you may be reminded of what I look like in shorts. And who’s to say this delinquent won’t strike again?!

So, you may still want to take baths — but it will be at your own risk. It will either ruin cold cuts for you, or ruin your perception of the female anatomy. There really is no victory, only defeat. But if someone enters the bathroom with a slice of cheese or bottle of mayo — gird your loins, and don’t say you weren’t warned.