I’m going to break a rule.

I’m blogging about body functions and human habits. Other than a few books, like “Our Bodies, Our Selves,” and “Everybody Poops,” we prefer that our body functions are kept secret.

I’m writing about one of the things I do that most disgusts my wife. Now, I’m sure several things will come to your mind, depending upon your age, history and sex.

It’s in my thoughts today because I did it today. The habit in question is blowing my nose in the shower.

The water is running. I’m blowing into my cupped hand. Then I’m rinsing.

My wife has informed me several times that it’s a disgusting habit. One time when she told me that, I complained about it to female friends at work. Did they find it disgusting?

“Oh, yes, absolutely.”

Astounding. “Why?”

“Because it’s a filthy, dirty habit,” they answered. “It’s disgusting.” Their husbands and boyfriends did it, too, and they wanted to know, “Why? Why do you do this? Why do men do this?”

I had an answer. “There are several reasons. One. I have hairy nostrils. Things get fouled up there. Snot hangs on and hardens.

To quote them, “Oh, gross, do you need to be so graphic? TMI.”

Undeterred, I continued, “Two, I’m in a private location. I can blow to my nose’s contentment.”

They were feigning gagging.

I think they were feigning it.

“Three. The hot water loosens everything up. And four, I can wash it all away. It’s efficient, clean and economical. If I didn’t do it, I’d be out there blowing into wadded tissues and hankies for a long time, which you would probably find equally disgusting.”

I was thinking of that conversation today, during my third day of cold therapy, because there wasn’t any steam. There was only ice water. At least it seemed so to my naked skin. The cold water was worse today because I was washing and conditioning my hair. That gave me time to think because I turn on the water, soak my head, then turn off the water to lather up. The water is then turned on again and the shampoo rinsed out. The water goes off again while I apply conditioner. I’m trying not to be wasteful. Then I turn the water on, rinse off the conditioner, soap up, and turn the water off, turning it on again for the final rinse.

It’s during the final rinse where I blow out my nostrils. Was it as effective in freezing water? Seems so.

So my logic for doing this may be partially wrong. Maybe I’m just a gross, disgusting male with bad habits.

Well, some would claim I’m now being redundant.