Beware The Turban Tub Tyrant

Dunking her head under the warm bubbles, PP sighs in post swim tiredness. She looks so forward to this moment, especially after a hard swim. The hot tub is her relaxation sanctuary.

Unless Turban Tub Tyrant is there.


PP still can’t believe it. What the hell is up with some of these women? They think they own the joint. Don’t they realize that the YMCA is NOT their Domain, no matter how long they’ve been a member, how big their boobs are, or how mean they are?

Yet time and again, PP has witnessed the bitchy cat fights that ensue over the most trivial of territorial issues.

Someone’s left a suit in the sink.
Someone’s forgotten to rinse off the sauna boards after dropping salt down the slats.
Someone’s wearing too much goddamn green goo that sinks into their skin and no matter how long they shower it’s still in their skin and then they get into the hot tub and….


So, after dunking her head under the water, when PP comes up to the sound of disgruntled mumbling from across the tub, she’s not entirely surprised. She’s just surprised it’s aimed at her.
What the hell line could she have crossed over today?

Of course, she can’t understand the mutterings. Her earplugs are still in. But somehow she knows the grumbling is aimed at her.

Cluelessly confused, PP turns to the sweet looking soft woman sitting next to her. “What did she say?”
Sweet Woman smiled. Unsure. “I’m not sure. Something about your hair.”
”What about my hair?”
“I dunno….” Her voice trailed off.
PP glanced over at Turban Tyrant holding court in the corner. TT gave PP the evil eye and then muttered again something that PP couldn’t understand. If she had a problem with PP why didn’t she just talk to her directly? Why mutter under the bubbles?

Sweet Woman tried again. “What do you mean about her hair?”
”She shouldn’t be puttin' her head under the water like that!” Turban Tyrant snorted, her white turban shaking in indignation.
What? PP is completely confused. Since when can’t she dunk her head under the water? Like how the hell long has she been going to pools and hot tubs and dunking her head under the water after taking her cap off?

50 years.


But Turban Tyrant would have none of it.
“Why is that?” Sweet Woman was trying to ameliorate the situation.
TT muttered something else unintelligible in specifics, but highly understandable in meaning. TT was pissed off and she was NOT gonna take it anymore!
“You mean for the hygiene?” SW prompted.
“That right.”
Perplexed, PP just shook her head, “I’ve just been in the pool for an hour and took two showers before that so I don’t think I’m too contaminated. That pool is pretty chlorinated. Not much could survive on me after That hour long dousing.”
This was supposed to be a joke.
Turban Tyrant was not amused. But came right back at PP. “That don’t matter. You not supposed to put your hair in here.”

Shit. PP sank down into the bubbles. Decided to ignore her. Hell she wasn’t gonna argue. Didn’t have the energy today. So tired. So hungry. She certainly didn’t need to get on Turban Tyrant’s bad side.

But evidently she already had. Now what?

PP tried to pretend like there weren’t wet daggers in the air. Flying at her wet head.
Off with it!

She tried to chat with Sweet Woman. About swimming. Kids. Babies in the pool.

Of course, she had nothing to say about any of this. Having no babies and thus no experience taking care of them and the kinds of sacrifices that motherhood demanded on one’s pool schedule.

Turban Tyrant of course loved the baby talk. “Oh, you have two little ones at home now,” she chuckled warmly, pointedly not looking at PP. “You gotta take care of them before anything else.”
“Yeah. That’s true, but….” Sweet Woman gave a tired smile, sighing as she started up the steps.
“Have a nice swim,” PP called after her, wishing she’d stay. Her presence kept PP from drowning TT.

“Thanks, I gotta go now or I’m gonna be completely unmotivated.”

Nodding, PP watched her saunter toward the pool, leaving her alone with TT.

Did PP dare say anything in her own defense now?

Sittin up in the tub, she glanced over at the signage posted above the tub in 3 languages. Lots of instructions about NO soaps, oils, masks, etc, being allowed in the Tub.

NOT one damn thing about No dunking one’s head under the water.

Of course not. This is what everyone does. And PP guesses this is TT’s problem. Everyone is polluting HER Hot Tub with their hair! Like PP’s hair is gonna fall out and contaminate the tub in the 3 seconds she was under water.

It was all so ridiculous.
But yet….it made PP so angry and frustrated. Why pick on her? Why not admonish the pert Chinese woman next to her with soaking wet hair that undoubtedly had been dunked in the tub water numerous times?

PP has to wonder. Was TT just in a pissy mood? Did PP set her off for some other reason? Did TT wish she had lots of long blonde hair on her nasty old head?

Who the hell knows!

All PP knows is that she just doesn’t need this. The YMCA is one of her few sanctuaries from that overwhelming workaday world and the often chaotic pandemonium of her apartment. At the Y, she feels like she can navigate its intricacies.

At least most of the time.

Unless TT is on watch.

Then watch out.

Or else.
Or else what?


Fortunately, PP watches lots of soap operas so she has a plan full of vengeance and backbiting bitchiness.

Next time PP gets into the tub and spies TT there, you know what she's gonna do?

Take her cap off. Give TT a great big How’re ya doin today Grin.

Then Dunk her head UNDER the water for as long as she damn well pleases.


Ian said…
Vengeance is sweet, as any good soap nut knows (soap opera that is). Go dunk, it girl. Dunk that head, your own for pure pleasure, and maybe Bat Head Turban Queen's too.

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