Man, working out is hard. I should have been alerted to this years ago, given that the word “work” appears right there in the title, and promptly quit that noise…. but for some reason, I still persist in my masochism.
Now, getting my ass out the door and to the gym in the first place is hard enough, let alone when there are people there acting a fool and messing up my exercise chi. And yet it happens. Almost every GD time.
Some of these eff-tards include:
- The man running on the treadmill beside me who recently took a bath (or perhaps has been trying to pickle himself) in a vat of oldspice and Axe body spray. Your advances are not working on me, buddy.
- Girl who runs 80 zillion miles on the treadmill. A) You’re hogging it, and B) You’re giving me a complex. Just get the hell off.
- Anyone who asks to “work-in” with you. Shit’s just awkward.
But above all else- the #1 thing at the gym that makes me uncomfortable is:
Call me a prude- but I was raised in a home where modesty was paramount (which is obviously why I started this blog… HI MOM!) and nakedness was like a fictional creature- heard of, but never seen. Because of this, I have issues with nudity. Just ask my former roommate. On the several occasions I inadvertently saw her in the buff, I ran from the room screaming at the top of my lungs and covering my face with my hands. Looking back, I hope I didn’t hurt her feelings, and that she understood that my problem with nudity was in general.. not hers in particular.
Anyway, I realized the first time I stepped foot in a YMCA as a child and saw all of the free-roaming lady parts that not everyone shares my Victorian modesty. But I’ve learned to adapt. I’ve developed a system where, when I enter the changeroom at my gym, I pretend that I am wearing a set of goggles that obscure my peripheral vision completely, and allow me to sense out nudity and chart a new path in order to avoid it. It’s sort of like Terminator Vision.
Anyway- the other day, I encountered a situation that rendered even my trusty terminator vision useless. As I was lacing up my shoes and mentally preparing myself for the
moving deathmobile treadmill, I heard a voice say “Nice sneakers!”
There is a term used in Corporate Law to describe a transaction where both parties give one another unfettered access to information. It’s called “Open Kimono”. Well, let me tell you- when I looked up, and my eyes met the originator of this statement-context flew out the window, and all I could think about were those two little words playing on a continuous loop in my brain, like a flashing red warning sign:
OPEN KIMONO OPEN KIMONO OPENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN KIMONO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
An elderly lady- naked as the day she was born, save for what appeared to be a hand towel on her lower half, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal her nether regions- stood before me.
omgomgomgomgomgomg. Nakedness. In front of me. Naked body TALKING TO ME. whatdoido!!! First, I thought to myself that the Open Kimono- besides the hydraulic press- is apparently the Terminator’s only weakness. Then I remembered that this lady had said something to me, and was probably looking for some actual words back, rather than just nervous shuffling and darting eyeballs gazing longingly towards the door.
“Oh thanks” I said sheepishly.
“You gonna go for a run today?” She asked, sauntering ever so slightly closer.
“oh haha! yeah maybe I dont know haha im kinda tired but haha we’ll see!!!” I’m sweating profusely at this point, and my speech was 10x its normal volume.
“Yeah, Mondays.. I know how those can be” she said, stretching her arms over her head.
oh jesus. Keepittogether. Keeeeeeeep itttt tooooogether.
“I always hated when they had tests on Monday in school” she continued, lifting one leg onto the bench and stretching. “You need some time to get all geared up for the week, you know?”
“mhmmm yah oh totally” I responded. “Mondays! ha! such a useless day! well anyway, gotta go!” I proclaimed, rushing past her towards the cardio room.
I got almost all the way there, when I had a thought: Who was I was really running away from, here? This bad-ass old bitch rocking her 80-year-old nakedness up in the gym? Or myself, and my ridiculous fear of all that God gave us?
An idea struck me, and I turned on my heel and went back to my locker. “Forgot my ipod!” I said… feigning opening the lock and reaching into my gym bag. As I closed my locker and turned around- I gave myself a little pep talk: Just do it….What have you got to lose??
Mentally, I switched off my terminator vision, and stared this lady down: full frontal.
Huh. So THAT’s what she was working with.
I hadn’t really planned out what I would do next, and as I stood there, mouth agape and staring blankly, I realized I had to make some sort of move. I considered giving her a high-five, since, bitch clearly had more confidence in her pinky finger than I have in my entire body- but something told me that might be sort of creepy.
So I went with: “Well- it was nice to see you!”, as I left the changeroom. And I realized that, strangely- I meant it.
Question of the Day: How do YOU feel about nudity?
P.S. Check out my new sidebar- Thanks to all of your great feedback on my post Twitter: The 21st Century Haiku, BreezyK is now tweeting! I might not tweet any Haikus, but I probably WILL tweet in real time about all the reality TV I’m watching and bottles of wine I am drinking. So do yourself a favour and follow that sh*t