This should bring some interesting Google traffic
I've been a member of four or five gyms over the past decade or so, everything from the local community centre with five pieces of equipment, some freeweights and an ancient standing bicycle to the commercial gym I now frequent. Up until now, though, I've managed to avoid the phenomenon of the locker room shower. Unfortunately, since I live in the suburbs and workout downtown before work, showering at the gym is an unavoidable necessity.
Ick.
It's not that I have modesty issues. Heck, my parents were nudists after all. It's just such a holy pain in the ass to be organized enough to remember to pack everything into my bag in the morning, decide what to bring into the little shower stall, shower, get dried off and dressed and out, all without forgetting something and being elbow to elbow with a bunch of other people. My inner diva is not impressed.
The very first day I worked out downtown, I forgot to bring my towel. It takes a really long time to dry yourself off using those brown paper towel squares made out of recycled cardboard. The second time, I forgot to bring fresh underwear. Sigh. The third time, I remembered everything - and then forgot my hair dryer in a locker when I left. Luckily, it was still there the next day when I went back for it.
The showers in the locker room are really quite unappetizing. Dank, airless, unpleasant. I went out after my first experience and bought myself some shower shoes for the first time in my life. (And don't get me started on shower shoes. I can see why some people call flip-flops 'thongs' because the human body is just not designed to have hardware crammed into its cracks. Why women wear thongs on their feet or their asses is a complete mystery to me... I can't see how they can get over being irritated by them long enough to concentate on putting one foot in front of the other, let alone being a productive contributor to society. But I digress.)
The showers are on a kind of a pump thingee. You press the button, and get X amount of time. In my case this morning, you get four seconds of water. Four seconds. Count with me now: one buttercup, two buttercup, three buttercup, four buttercup. That's how much time I had before I had to press the button again. That's not enough time to wash an armpit, let alone to rinse half a bottle of shampoo out of unruly, sweat-tangled curls. I think I worked up more of a sweat trying to keep the water flowing than I did on the eliptical trainer.
There are showers here in the building where I work, but I am not sure I am in any hurry to see any of my coworkers naked. Not sure, for that matter, to share so much of myself either. It's one thing to publish my naked insides onto the Internet through blog for all the world to see, and I'm okay with being naked on the outside in front of strangers. But do I need to strip in front of people I might later ask for a job reference?
Are you modest or an exhibitionist?
Ick.
It's not that I have modesty issues. Heck, my parents were nudists after all. It's just such a holy pain in the ass to be organized enough to remember to pack everything into my bag in the morning, decide what to bring into the little shower stall, shower, get dried off and dressed and out, all without forgetting something and being elbow to elbow with a bunch of other people. My inner diva is not impressed.
The very first day I worked out downtown, I forgot to bring my towel. It takes a really long time to dry yourself off using those brown paper towel squares made out of recycled cardboard. The second time, I forgot to bring fresh underwear. Sigh. The third time, I remembered everything - and then forgot my hair dryer in a locker when I left. Luckily, it was still there the next day when I went back for it.
The showers in the locker room are really quite unappetizing. Dank, airless, unpleasant. I went out after my first experience and bought myself some shower shoes for the first time in my life. (And don't get me started on shower shoes. I can see why some people call flip-flops 'thongs' because the human body is just not designed to have hardware crammed into its cracks. Why women wear thongs on their feet or their asses is a complete mystery to me... I can't see how they can get over being irritated by them long enough to concentate on putting one foot in front of the other, let alone being a productive contributor to society. But I digress.)
The showers are on a kind of a pump thingee. You press the button, and get X amount of time. In my case this morning, you get four seconds of water. Four seconds. Count with me now: one buttercup, two buttercup, three buttercup, four buttercup. That's how much time I had before I had to press the button again. That's not enough time to wash an armpit, let alone to rinse half a bottle of shampoo out of unruly, sweat-tangled curls. I think I worked up more of a sweat trying to keep the water flowing than I did on the eliptical trainer.
There are showers here in the building where I work, but I am not sure I am in any hurry to see any of my coworkers naked. Not sure, for that matter, to share so much of myself either. It's one thing to publish my naked insides onto the Internet through blog for all the world to see, and I'm okay with being naked on the outside in front of strangers. But do I need to strip in front of people I might later ask for a job reference?
Are you modest or an exhibitionist?
Said DaniGirl at 7:22 a.m. #
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