Redefining: Shedding privilege #1

I've never considered myself one of those prissy types. You'll probably never find me at the Ritz. I don't bitch too much about the lack of heat in my BedStuy - do or die - apartment during the winter. I've peed atop a seatless toilet before. I don't over-protect against bedbugs (a mattress cover is sufficient), have touched a number of suspect Williamsburg bar door handles, and have entered and survived a NYC subway during the flu season. Prissy, no...entitled to certain human rights? But of course...I'm an American!

What I'm learning, quickly, is that it's time to redefine my notions of 'right' and 'privilege'. So let's begin with the forced shedding of privilege #1...

Ah hot showers...what a lovely concept. Soap lathers more easily when heat's applied, salt from the sea disintegrates, bacteria die. 30 seconds under a hot water stream, eh viola - you have yourself one clean, bacteria free, first world human being. 

My showers used to be long, sometimes so long I'd get stamped as one of those non-environmentally friendly jerks by a Californian for sure!  A-hole or not, I used to cherish them; the daily bacteria massacre: a side-note bonus.  

The superbly executed ritual I developed around my hygiene maintenance over the years was somewhat of an art form: 

Shampoo, followed by conditioner. Let it soak in, hot water running, as I...shave both legs, then armpits, the more private of the parts, bodywash, face scrub and finally, complete the two minute rinse (mist or full blast depending on the mood). 

Five *high quality* products and one sharp tool later, the ritual would end as I stepped out of the tub onto a steamy bathroom floor and wiped myself with an extra large, well laundered, mountain breeze scented towel.

My third world showers, as the Green community will be happy to learn, require approximately 30 seconds of running water - karma is a B! The procedure, now, is as follows:

Turn water on...Gulp... inhale. Wet body as quickly as possible. Exhale. 
Turn water off. 

Shampoo. Gulp... inhale. Rinse quickly holding head back to avoid body contact...exhale. Turn water off. 

Apply conditioner. Wait 20 seconds, shivering, water turned off. Gulp...inhale, rinse...brrrrr...

Turn water off, exhale, thankful the heart attack I felt coming on was, yet again, a false alarm.  

Grab driest tool for wiping - tap skin lightly. Pray the '20 second rule' applies in reverse.

Walk off cold tiles, feet still wet...

Approach sink.
Shave right leg.
Shave left. 

Proceed to bed. Lie under covers. Wait for teeth chatter to cease. 

Back to sink...attack armpits with a quickly dulling, American manufactured razor.

Glare at red bumps forming on skin from goosebumps, relieved the chore is over. Dread the, once cherished, procedure that awaits me tomorrow.

I haven't had a hot shower since 8/27 in the a.m. Took the last one before my flight - didn't think to say adieu...