A Bath Bomb Fail: A Cautionary Tale

Look y'all, I had a TIME in the bath yesterday. I mean, yeah, I did a relax, but I also had an "incident".

The Scene: A retro glamorous bathroom that looks lived in. The walls are covered in a gorgeous vintage pink and green wallpaper. The tub is green, and old. A month's-old copy of Entertainment Weekly rests half-read on the tub ledge. The toilet is push button and modern. The sink? Well, it's cluttered. 

The Character: A mid-40s lady with glasses, short hair that's greying at the 4-inch roots, very wide hips, perky chest area, horrible teeth, and a pretty good sense of humor. 

The Accomplices: Bathtime Snoopy, who is just a hard gang Space Snoopy that came from a Happy Meal and Sharp, who used to float in the pool. He is a shark. Tiny No-Name Skeltal,  who protects me after emerging from the depths of an old Halloween bath bomb. 

Now, I don't blame them for anything, so don't get mad at them. They're sweet bathtime company. What happened yesterday was all my fault. 

Well, at least it was me that made the choices that allowed yesterday's incident to happen. 

See? I've already talked about how much I love baths. Sometime's I'll treat myself with a fancy bath bomb!

Now, as with most objects, I've done a ton of research on bath bombs and a few years ago I discovered *my* bath bomb company: Scandalous Soap Company. They made the BEST!

In case you don't think as hard about bath bombs as I do, let me give you a short list of what makes a good bath bomb for me:

• It should smell like fruit or other food. No floral scents for this gal.
• It should make my skin soft. 
• It should be cute. Meaning: I like my bath bombs to look like things. Or be references to things. I guess what I'm saying is 'I like a clever bath bomb.'
• It should be made by a human not a machine. 
• It should foam and fizz slowly and last a decent amount of time. At least one listen of the Kids See Ghosts album at the very least. 
• There shouldn't be dead flower bits in it. That makes me feel like there are bugs on me. I do not want to feel that way. 
• It should dramatically change the color of my bathwater. 

So, those are just a few things I consider when purchasing a bath bomb. Scandalous Soaps ticked every single box and they were a dream to order from. Then they up and stopped selling retail bath bombs, instead focusing on educating other makers. 

Noble cause and all... and I LOVE watching them soar (one of the owner's was even on a Discovery + reality show!!!), but I miss spending bath time with their bombs. 

So I went back on the hunt. After going through a few big duds (flower bits everywhere, y'all... and too much glitter, sis.), I found a company I thought I'd stick with. 

Then, last night happened. 

The culprit was an Aladdin's Genie-shaped bath bomb, scented with vanilla and berries. It was a violent fizzer and watch quite entertaining to watch. 

My bathwater turned a deep indigo and the scent was intoxicating. I was feelin' a happy, soaking in the sauce and reading another chapter of my (affiliate link) "Highly Sensitive Person" book (another game changer (for my brain. I cannot recommend this enough and need to blog about it.)

The "Killing Eve" soundtrack was making me feel like I was on a murder vacation. All was right with the world. 

Then the hot water stopped coming, so I decided it was time to get out. When I pulled the plug, I noticed a weird tint to my hand. 

My eyes followed the tint all the way up my arm. 

They tracked the tint to my shoulder, then they quickly started darting to other parts of my body:

• Knee? Shaded. 
• Other elbow? Affected. 
• Thigh? Not normal.
• Hip? Lookin' like a bruise. 
• Ankle? Busted. 

Ok, not really busted, but y'all...

I blue myself. 

And I blue the bathtub. 

It took me longer to recover form the bath that actually taking it.

That bomb smelled yummy, but the aftermath was not worth it. There were weird HUGE clumps of dye just that just didn't dissolve. Where ever it landed on my skin, I was a deep blue. 

I honestly wish I had pictures, but as soon as I realized what happened, my brain went into overtime to correct it. So, alas, this cautionary tale is all you get.