Yesterday after my workout, I had to shower at the gym. Yes, it’s kind of gross. And yes, I wore my flip flops specified only for public showers. Let’s be clear: it’s not that I shower publicly often, but when I do, I wear those shoes.
To begin, I was a little bit bummed because though there are two shower stalls, the one I prefer was occupied. The one which I ended up using is smaller and has a hand-held shower head. Fortunately for me, it clips onto the pole high enough for me to stand up straight and shower somewhat normally. I would venture to guess that for the majority of my readership (ok, not my mom or my grandma) it would be a tortuous exercise to bend that low and/or hold the handle and still bathe somewhat effectively.
Reason #357 that I’m glad I’m 5’2.5”.
That being said, I didn’t have time to wait for my preferential stall so I went with the other one.
Now, fast forward through the shower. It was gross; the hair on the shower walls and all that business makes me a little gaggy…even now as I type.
So, as I was getting dressed inside the little stall…because where else was I going to get dressed, right?
Who would leave the safety and comfort of the stall and get dressed in front of God and everyone? That would be C.R.A.Z.Y., right? (If you’re sensing a hint of foreshadowing there, you are quite astute…I have nothing but quality readers, I am certain.). From inside the shower stall, I heard a noise to which I am familiar: it was undoubtedly a snack food wrapper of some sort.
Well, I am not one to judge because who hasn’t, on occasion, imbibed in a snack food “reward” after a workout?
I didn’t think much of it, however, in the few minutes it took me to get dressed, and then put away all my toiletries and such, I continued to hear the crinkle-crinkle-crinkle of the wrapper.
Surely someone isn’t sitting in the locker room, eating a snack…is she? (I’m making a presumption here, but it was the women’s locker room, so I figured it was a safe assumption.)
Now, I was completely focused on the sound: What else could it be?
I don’t know…it can’t be anything other than a snack food wrapper.
It can’t be a granola bar or something like that…it’s taking too long for her to eat. No one takes that long to eat a granola bar…it’s only 3, maybe 4 bites tops.
I don’t hear a crunch…so what could it be that doesn’t have a crunch? Maybe there is one but I can’t hear it.
And why don’t I hear ANY other noise? Isn’t she getting changed or something?
Maybe it’s a pre-workout energy boost?
That must be it…she’s getting ready and fueling her body for a top-notch workout. I’m not judging…who hasn’t, on occasion, imbibed in a snack food “fueling” before a workout?
When I could no longer take it and just HAD to see what’s going on out there (plus I was totally dressed and all packed up, so there was really no reason to remain in the shower stall), I flung open the curtain and what did I see?
A lady sitting on her towel, in only her bra and skivvies, eating a big bag of Combos.
It’s not exactly the high point of the story you were expecting, was it? Me either. I can’t promise you too much for the falling action of the story either.
She had a couple bags on the floor around her, open and stuff kind of spilling out everywhere. Her hair was still dripping wet. And she kind of gave me a look like “What?”
Apparently my face belied what I was thinking…which was the same word, different inflection, “What?!?”
I quickly scurried by, because my hair was also wet and undone and figured I should get to the business of doing something about that.
As I was drying my hair, I had my head tilted down but I saw movement in the mirror. I looked up (it’s those survival instincts…don’t want to be caught unaware, lest I be ambushed in the bathroom) and it was the same lady passing by.
Yes, there she was, sauntering out into the area with the sinks and toilets (not so much the “ladies locker room” area, but the “ladies restroom” area. Here is where all the Senior Saints pop in to use the potty when they’re in between laps around the track.)
Anyway…the lady still only had on her bra and skivvies. And flip-flops…she did have those on too.
And she carried in her hands a hairdryer. And the bag of Combos.
She proceeded to primp a little bit and eat some Combos and then dry some hair. And then repeat the process.
It was like a bad accident…only I didn’t let myself look other than furtive glances. Kind of like on the tour at the Black Pine Animal Sanctuary.
I was so stunned by this one woman, turning two of my fundamental truths completely upside down:
1) you can’t be eating anything when you’re only wearing your skivvies, and
2) you can’t walk around public places in only your skivvies.
Yes, these are two of the hard and fast rules by which I live my life. Is it no wonder, with such staunch truths by which to live, that I’ve gotten this far?
(True confession: I do have at least a couple other rules which may or may not have a little bit more stringent hold on me, and may have had more to do with the content of my character than these particular ones which she so blatantly broke.)
And believe it or not, I have NEVER broken either one of these rules.