Taking a cold shower... is soooo good for you...

As a schoolgirl, I would eschew any physical activity whenever I could, to avoid breaking out into a sweat. All I wanted to do was sit, read and learn. And talk, of course. PE was a complete anathema to me, whether it was the sheer pointlessness of running up and down a lacrosse pitch, or thwacking footlessly at shuttlecocks that never reached my racquet. Swimming? You got hopelessly wet. And had to drag your clothes back on over a half-damp body with only five minutes to reach your Chemistry class in time. Mainly because the fiendishly flame-haired McCann, had insisted that you did not use the steps and hoisted yourself unaided out of the pool using upper-arm strength only. No wonder I hated it. I can still feel the score marks on those meaty thighs. So no, a cold shower was something that I used to dodge wherever possible, on the basis that I was still as fragrant as a rose.

Yesterday I read about the virtues of cold baths. I had no idea they could be so therapeutic. The claim is that they boost  the immune system; they stimulate circulation; they improve hair and skin, and they are good for those suffering from depression because they are mood-enhancing. Oh, and I forgot to mention, FAT-busting, in that they speed up your metabolism. I ask you, what is not to love in that list?

So yesterday morning, I took my first cold shower. Yes, a shower, not a bath, as I thought I would do this in sensible stages. So first I turned on the shower. Not bad, I thought. Luke warm. Stuck a shoulder underneath. I will turn it down a bit. Whoah! Colder? Yes, I can do colder. Few more seconds to acclimatise. Does this thing go any colder?
YEEEES IT DOES! I gave an operatic shriek. I think I was a high E or even an F. Or maybe even a blend of the two.
Well now, I felt really warm and vibrant when I'd dried off. Felt great all day. So much so that I waited until I had the house to myself before having my second shower this morning. Because I find that if I sing loudly, in the way of a medieval plain-song, if you're interested (not that I have any experience of this, but I've never let that hold me back) I can distract myself from the breathtaking impact of the cold water. By God, the acoustics in our shower room are something else. I sound marvellous.

Actually, self-praise is no recommendation ,as my dear Mama used to say, but what I have just done is to remind myself that unless I re-adjust the dial right now, there will be no medieval plain-song emitting from the bathroom tomorrow morning when Dearest does his ablutions. No, I would expect to hear a veritable Anglo-Saxon roar. Glad you reminded me.

Dial it down if you dare!