Everything Shower
After a long day of the breeze and the sand here at Telunas, I find myself craving one thing… a shower. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful to be here, surrounded by my entire friend group and the serene waters in a wooden cabin on this small island in Indonesia. This trip has been everything I would have hoped for in a writing retreat; it is a break from everyday life. But after hours of brainstorming, reading mentor essays (or essayettes), and jotting down ideas in my black-marbled composition book, an hour-long “everything” shower at home is just what I need.
An “everything” shower is what it sounds like. It is a shower where you wash everything: hair, skin, face– everything gets the whole treatment. It is just not possible to bring my entire metal rack of shower goods with me everywhere I travel, and I can’t do that here with a bar of soap and the travel-size shampoo I have in my duffel bag. Plus, with ten girls waiting in our cabin reminding me to hurry up, showering here feels more like a chore than a moment of self-care that it usually is for me. I’m left longing for the luxury of my routine, realizing that I will have to settle for a quick, unsatisfying rinse instead.
We’ve spent hours at the beach here, pretending we’re in the paradise of the Maldives instead of a school trip—I could live in the water forever, waiting for time to disappear. But while Telunas may feel like paradise, I’m now running my hand through my hair and realizing it feels like hay. My keratin and bleach treated hair, completely fried by the saltwater and the sun. All of a sudden I’m remembering the delight of a proper everything shower — one where I can slather on my Olaplex no.3 hair mask, and sing broken chords in the shower while the mask marinates. The thought of this alone is making me count down the seconds until I can finally wash out the sand underneath my overgrown gel manicure and feel rejuvenated.
The process of my “everything” shower is my luxury. I start by using my Caudalie Vinoperfect face mask, letting it purify my pores while I jump into the shower. Then, I grab my silicone scalp scrubber and wash my hair three times so that when I press and rub I hear that little squeaky sound (similar to the cartoon “clean” sound effects). After that, it’s time for my body scrub, which of course matches the scent of my body wash and spray. As I wash everything off, remnants of school cafeteria air, and of course, the stress of the day, I’m scrubbing off more than just dirt. Each drop of water carries away the piled up assignments on Schoology, or my unfinished college applications. The scent of amber and warm vanilla lingers on my skin long after I have dried off, and I relish the compliments on my scent that come when I walk by the next day at school. I’ve got my shower playlist going the whole time, playing exactly what I’ve curated for this moment of indulgence. And then my favorite part: the oversized T-shirt I snagged from one of my dad’s work conferences. It’s faded and soft, washed so many times that it feels like a whisper against my skin. After getting dressed, I lie down on my bed with my hair still damp, while staring at the ceiling fan. It’s a simple moment of my day, yet it feels like I have all the time in the world to think about nothing.
The simplicity of my surroundings here make me appreciate the luxuries most people often look past as an everyday routine. In these moments I realize how transformative my ritual is as a rebellion against the chaos of my current point in life. Far away from deadlines, I find comfort both in Telunas and in my shower of the luxurious simplicity of just existing.