I Mixed Up My Bath Bomb And Actual Bomb Recipes And Now I’m In Federal Custody
I work so hard watching my nanny, Sarah, put together bento box lunches for my children and smiling and nodding when my husband Gregory talks about his “business.” I don’t know exactly what he does and I think, for legal purposes, that I don’t want to. I really just tune out whenever he’s speaking. Anyway, after filling my days with such stress, I often reward myself with a soothing home spa experience. I could pay to attend my fancy local spa, but there’s a drink limit and mama’s gotta get her mimosas on. Like all you commoners, I, too, am obsessed with Pinterest and I couldn’t get over the absolutely adorable homemade bath bombs I found in the DIY section. I attempted to create some myself … and it may have been the biggest mistake of my life.
First, I gathered together all my dry ingredients. The cornstarch, the baking soda, the [REDACTED BY OUR LEGAL DEPARTMENT]. A few drops of food coloring allowed me to match my bath bombs to my sparkling blue eyes. The blog post I used for the recipe recommended mixing the ingredients together with my hands to ensure full coverage of the color but that just wasn’t an option. Not because I’m too fancy to get my hands a little dirty, but because the [REDACTED] caused my skin to burn.
The great thing about homemade bath bombs is how easily customizable they are. With various oils and extracts, any variety of scents can be created to suit your own preferences. My personal favorite is a combination of blueberry, mint, and [REDACTED, COME ON NOW]. I mixed my liquid ingredients with my dry ingredients and a spark flashed before my eyes as a puff of smoke wafted up out of the bowl. I took this as a sign that my bath bomb making skills were on fire (get it?) and plugged right ahead.
After mixing all the ingredients, I let my bath bombs set in the refrigerator for a couple days. I wanted to make my spa experience extra special so I snagged some colorful moisturizing beads and a few [REDACTED, CAROLYN, JESUS CHRIST, STOP]. With careful attention to detail, I sprinkled my decorations over the top of my bath bombs and prepared for a night of luxury.
I dropped my DIY bath bombs into my vintage, clawfoot tub … and I honestly can’t remember anything that happened after that. I awoke bleeding and disoriented on the bathroom floor. I struggled to pull myself upright as my wrists had suddenly become bound by cold, hard steel. Two men in black uniforms whisked me off my feet and nonchalantly informed me that I was about to take a trip “downtown.” At first, I was excited. That’s where my fave Sephora location is! I quickly realized that was not at all what they meant.
It’s been 529 days since I last saw the outside world. At least, according to the scratches that line the wall behind my cot. I wish I could see my children again. Play with them, laugh with them, watch as Sarah braids their hair for me. I wish I could ignore my husband’s stupid work prattle like I once did. It’s OK, though. I have a plan. Once a week, we are given limited access to the internet for good behavior. I discovered a DIY shaving cream recipe that I’m 90 percent certain will dissolve the metal bars of my cell. Gregory has already begun smuggling me items during our conjugal visits. I’ve already gotten my hands on a small stash of coconut oil [FOR THE LAST GODDAMN TIME REDACTED]. I’m coming home soon, my babies.