I joined a new gym recently, and I now think perhaps I should have asked for a more thorough tour before joining.
I saw most of it--the six racquetball courts, the indoor and outdoor pools, the basketball court, the quarter-mile track, the free weights, the cardio machines, the bar. I even saw the lockers and sinks. I just should have taken three or four more steps.
Around the corner from the sinks with the complimentary shampoo, just past the sauna, overlooking the men's jacuzzi, are eight shower heads, put to regular use by lots of naked men.
Now I'm all for community--I think I've established that--but I'm not comfortable with communal showers, especially communal showers that overlook the jacuzzi--and that the jacuzzi consequently overlooks. This doesn't feel like a locker room so much as it does a Roman bathhouse. Ick.
I don't know where to look; I don't know how thoroughly I should wash myself. When I round the corner the octegenarians invite me to take their place because they're done and the other available showerheads have poor water pressure. I feel naked there because I am naked there.
I'm sorry. There are some moments that are meant to be private. You shouldn't even blog about them, probably.
Oh, wait . . .