Back in ancient times, around 2014, my friends and I introduced the world to No Shower Sundays. It began as a way to watch football together without fear of judgement. It didn't matter if you showed up in last night's clothes, how you looked, or sometimes, even how you smelled. Saturdays were for the boys, but more often than not we extended the deadline. Especially during football.
No Shower Sundays has since blossomed into a creed. In many cultures Sundays are a day for reflection. NSS is now a day for us to bask in our mistakes. Feel how much of a slimeball you were over the weekend. Smell your regret. Because come Monday, you need to rinse that all away and start over. The person during the weekend is washed away by the week. Start anew.
Today, my No Shower Sunday is really testing me. I scroll through highlights on Twitter forcing myself to confront the amount of money I lost. The burn in my throat from throwing up on the front lawn still feels fresh on the esophagus. Memories of flirting with my buddy's little sister last night flash across my brain. I'll wear that today, for the sake of Sunday. All of this in the midst of my Dad canceling his drive up to the Catskills. I made the mistake of assuming my shame would be my own today. Wrong, my dad has come into my room about seven times to tell me how ashamed he is. Still I learn, still I grow, for I know Monday, my insecurities will be lost down the shower drain.
I don't know who came up with No Shower Sunday, but I do know that I like to take credit for it a lot. I’ve spread it to at least five different states through college visits and roomates. In all fairness, I might have created it. If you feel the need to escape the sins you made, baptize yourself in your decisions. This weekend was not a reflection of who you are as a person. Remember, cringing is only the muscles flexing on the haters.
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