The Cold Shower Secret
My father always insisted I take cold showers, repeating the same words like a mantra: “You smell horrible. Go take a cold shower and use this soap.” And I did — five times a day, sometimes more. Each icy blast left me shivering, my teeth chattering, and my skin screaming in protest. My mother, usually my ally, stayed silent. Her quietness made no sense to me. I assumed this was some strange, new parenting method to improve my hygiene.
I would stand under the freezing water, rubbing the odd-smelling soap over my skin. The scent was sharp and clinical, unfamiliar, but I trusted my father. Maybe it was some miraculous soap, one that would make me smell perfect all day. Still, a tiny knot of unease grew in my stomach every time I obeyed his orders.
Then came the day my boyfriend, Jake, came over. We were laughing in my room, the kind of carefree laughter that only comes when you feel safe. I don’t know what compelled me to ask, but I blurted out: “Do I smell bad?”
Jake thought I was joking. He chuckled and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. When he returned, his face was pale, eyes wide, and he held the soap in his hands like it was radioactive.
“Who gave you this? Are you really taking cold showers with this?” His voice trembled, panic creeping in.
I froze. “Yeah… why?”
Tears welled in his eyes. “They didn’t tell you, did they? Baby, this isn’t normal soap! This is a surgical antiseptic! It’s used to sterilize skin before operations!”
My stomach sank. I snatched the package from his hands, scrutinizing the fine print I’d never bothered to read. Every word confirmed his warning. I had been scrubbing myself with an antiseptic meant for the operating room.
A wave of confusion and betrayal washed over me. Why would my father make me do this? Why had my mother said nothing? I sat on the edge of my bed, trembling, the icy showers now meaningless in the face of this revelation.
Jake sat beside me, wrapping me in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t believe they didn’t tell you.”
I shook my head, still in shock. “Why would he make me do that? Was it some kind of lesson? Or something else entirely?”
Jake sighed, “I don’t know, but you need to talk to them. There has to be a reason, or maybe it’s just a misunderstanding. You can’t stay in the dark like this.”
His words gave me a small sense of relief. I knew he was right. I needed answers. I needed to confront my parents and finally understand what had been happening behind my back.
As I prepared to speak with them, I realized something important: even when instructions come from people you trust, it’s okay to question them. My father’s actions might have been misguided, but I was determined to uncover the truth. With Jake by my side, I felt ready to end the cold shower saga once and for all.