Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Mary Floppins.

Dear Diary, 

     A few months ago, I decided to take charge of my health by doing more vigorous workouts at a local gym. Unfortunately, longer hours at the gym equals more exposure to the naked elderly. WHY, you ask? HOW, you ask? (Now don't get me wrong, I love me some old people. But naked old people...that is a different story altogether.)Two words: Water. Zumba.  

     I'm not sure what it is about old age that makes one feel liberated in every sense. They can quite honestly say (or yell) whatever they want to in public and people just "ooh" and "aah" as if those feisty silver slickers are cute little newborn babies. They can fart while they walk and not even care about the crop-dusted victims. (Stone. Cold.) They can drive like drunk teenagers and somehow come out unscathed. They can get their hair done to look like a cute, fluffy cotton candy topper and get praised by their entire Jazzercize crew for the new do. 


And the most important of all: they feel like walking around stark naked in a gym locker room is completely acceptable. Now, I'm a mature adult here. I don't really care that much if one desires to flaunt their birthday suit (I mean, when you got it, you got it.) It doesn't mean I WANT to see them naked, but I can definitely get over the fact. No big deal. However, this is not one old, fluffy, pasty, feisty, crop-dusting woman we are talking about. When I walk into the locker room after a nasty long workout, it's as if someone has popped the cork off of the old lady naked bubbly and all the old lady bubbles are spilling out. There are naked Golden Girls lined up at the lockers in absolutely no hurry to dress themselves. They are hauling (soft, pizza-doughy) buns to the bathroom stalls and stepping out of the shower. Curse you, Water Zumba. Curse. Youuuu. They are dripping their wetness all over the place while they roll their suitcases all around with their dry clothes inside. It is a full blown naked elderly soggy-bottom slow motion truffle shuffle traffic jam in about 800 square feet of space. 

The most frightening part of this whole thing is that there is no solution. Water Zumba falls smack dab in the middle of just about the only hours in my day I can exercise. Let's all have a moment of silence. 


Me. The Nakedphobic.