I had been staring at that sad, yellow tub in that old(ish) bathroom that looked like it had 30 years of BAD use (or a small fire, it didn’t but it still!). You know and that’s when I got to thinking…what if I could just paint it? I had no idea you could do that! But apparently, it’s a thing. My husband was like, maybe we should buy a new one. No one paints a bathtub. As it turns out, more people are doing it than you and my husband might think. I ended up going down a whole internet rabbit hole on the subject and short story long: yes, you can paint a bathtub. Whether you should… well, keep reading.
Why I Didn’t Just Replace the Whole Thing
Money. And also chaos. Ripping out a tub means plumbers and dust and, in my case, probably drywall repairs I’m not emotionally prepared for. Plus, have you ever tried picking out a new bathtub? It’s like buying a car, except it doesn’t go anywhere and it lives in your house forever.
Painting the tub, on the other hand? Way cheaper. And kind of low-commitment. Worst case, it flakes off and I have to stare at it in shame until I figure out a new plan. Best case? I save hundreds and avoid talking to contractors. So, I went for it.
But Not With Just Any Paint
I learned real quick that you can’t just grab a can of leftover wall paint and go to town. I mean, you can, but the paint will bubble and peel the first time the water gets hot. There are actual paints made for this, thankfully.
Epoxy Paint
This is the tough stuff. Epoxy’s made to survive all the splashes, steam, and scrubbing. It’s also sticky. And smelly. But if you want durability, this is your friend. Comes in kits sometimes, and I swear it smells like commitment and slight regret.
Acrylic Urethane Paint
A little easier to work with, if you’re nervous. Doesn’t last quite as long as epoxy, but if you’re doing this for a quick refresh—not a lifelong commitment—it’s solid. Easier cleanup, too.
Spray-On Kits
Some companies sell full spray kits with everything included. I didn’t try this, but if I ever do it again (not saying I will, but… maybe), I’d consider it. Less brushing, more misting. Just be ready to tape like your life depends on it.
How I Did It (And Where I Screwed Up)
Step 1: Clear the Zone
I pulled everything out of the bathroom—shower curtain, shampoo bottles, rubber duck, all of it. Opened the window. Turned on the fan. You do not want to breathe this stuff in. I wore a mask and still ended up with a headache, so yeah. Ventilation. Big deal.
Step 2: Clean Like You’ve Never Cleaned Before
This part matters. I used a serious cleaner, something that could probably strip paint from a car. Got rid of every speck of soap scum, mildew, all of it. And then I found a chip in the tub, filled it with this weird epoxy filler paste, sanded it smooth. Felt like I was prepping a spaceship.
Step 3: Sanding. Ugh.
Used a fine-grit sandpaper and roughed up the whole tub. Not enough to damage it, just enough to help the paint stick. It’s weirdly satisfying, but also exhausting. But if you wanna know, very exhausting. but the results worth it. I rinsed it all down and dried it with towels that I immediately ruined.
Step 4: Primer (Yes, It’s Necessary)
If you skip this, the paint won’t hold. I applied a bonding primer that smelled like something NASA might use. Let it dry completely. I didn’t rush it, because apparently that’s how you end up redoing it all next weekend.
Step 5: Paint Time
I used a brush for most of it and a small foam roller for the flat parts. Epoxy goes on kinda thick, so you’ve gotta be careful not to leave streaks or clumps. I did one coat, waited, then a second coat the next day. This part made me feel like I was doing something oddly adult.
Step 6: Seal It (Optional… But I Did)
After everything dried, I threw on a clear coat sealer. Not required, but I didn’t want to do this again for a long time. It added a bit of a gloss and supposedly helps with cleaning later.
Step 7: Wait. And Then Wait Some More.
This was the hardest part. You can’t use the tub for at least 24 hours. Some people say 48 to be safe. I took showers at my sister’s and stared at the tub like it was a cake I couldn’t eat. But when it was finally ready—it actually looked amazing. Not showroom-new, but definitely not embarrassing anymore.
Would I Recommend It?
Yeah… probably. I mean, if your tub is cracked in half and has rust creeping up the sides like it’s trying to escape? Just replace it. Don’t be a hero. But if the issue is mostly cosmetic—like it’s just stuck in some weird time warp where beige was considered luxurious—then yeah, painting it kind of makes sense.
Just know it’s not magic. I’m not out here promising a ten-year miracle fix. The paint holds up pretty well, but if you’re the kind of person who scrubs your tub like it owes you money, you’ll probably see wear and tear sooner than later. I try to use the gentler stuff now—no harsh cleaners that smell like lemon rage or whatever.
Also, look, it’s not exactly fun. There were fumes. My eyeballs felt spicy for a solid hour even with a fan going. And patience? You need it. Like, the kind you normally reserve for assembling IKEA furniture or teaching a toddler how to zip a coat.
But if you’ve got a free weekend, a tolerance for mild chaos, and a tub that makes you cringe every time you walk past it—this is do-able. Not easy. Not glamorous. But do-able.
My husband wasn’t even supposed to help, and somehow we both ended up crouched on the bathroom floor debating brush strokes and silently wondering if we were about to get high off epoxy. Weirdly… it was kind of fun? A little frustrating. A little bonding. The tub looks better now. We survived. Might even do the sink next. (Don’t quote me on that.)
