Give me a shower curtain or give me shame
December 12, 2007
Recently I increased the amount of time I spend at the gym from “sporadically” to almost every day.
I have also been watching what I eat and haven’t had booze in 11 days ” 11 god-awful, annoyance-filled, sweet-death-please-come-and-take-me days.
I am doing it not to better myself, which most would call a “lost cause,” but because in less than a week, I am voluntarily ” cough, blackmail, cough ” going to meet Kate’s entire family.
More on that next week, but in the meantime I figured it might be good to attempt to make myself look a bit healthier and perhaps curb that fat-guy gargle I get after walking up (one to three) stairs.
But, because of my schedule and my inability to get out of bed, I am occasionally forced to work out during my lunch hour, which means I have to shower at the gym.
Recently though, in what I can only imagine is the dumbest attempt to save money ever, the gym has removed the shower curtains.
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That’s right, showering has become a spectator sport.
Now, for those of you who haven’t spent a significant amount of time in a men’s locker room ” let me explain how this works.
You take your workout clothes off, wrap towel around you, walk to shower, turn on shower, hang towel on hook, begin singing Neil Diamond songs and get in shower.
That is unless you are over 50; then you are happy to walk around in all your wrinkly, time-ravaged glory.
(For those of you who just full-body shivered, think about what happens to those who witness it in person).
I don’t know why, but having other men look at me while I’m showering is just creepy ” not in a homosexual way ” but in a no-good-reason-to-be-looking kind of way.
It’s not that I’m not secure with my ” cough ” inadequacies; I understand that I am stuck with what I got, mostly because I can’t afford surgery and don’t deal well with pain, but nonetheless.
Look, ask any girl who has seem me in all my glory and after they stop laughing, they will give you a pretty accurate description most likely including the words “cold” and “chipmunk.”
Also, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever been in a public shower: There was middle school, high school, that independent film, college.
But come on, I spend a decent amount of money for the privilege of sweating my ass off only to have to get clean with an audience?
It’s not like it’s a giant public room with shower heads, designed to accommodate massive amounts of people. It’s several individual stalls, complete with um, what are those things, right, WALLS, and perhaps more importantly ” shower rods.
But I can’t be the guy that complains to the muscle-enhanced managers. Yeah, that’s going to go over well.
Jarid: “Um, yeah ‘scuse me. Oh, hold on and let me put down my latte. OK, I don’t mean to be a bother or be a ‘Nagging Nelly’ or anything like that, but could you be a dear and pretty please put the shower curtains back up?”
Mongo the gym manager: “Me no understand what tiny flabby boy say.”
So, I am left with the shame shower ” hop in, wash as quickly as possible while constantly looking over your shoulder to see if anyone is coming and hop out to the safety of your towel.
I only share this complaint in case ” in my haste ” I don’t get all the soap off and come back to work with body wash on my neck.
If that happens, I assure you, I haven’t been drinking.
At least not for the next seven days.
– Jarid Shipley is the Features Editor for the Nevada Appeal. Contact him a email@example.com or 881-1217.