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Anyway you know the drill — the inanimate object on your desk provides you with pithy quotes from inspiring people like Helen Keller, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Paris Hilton (I never said what they were inspiring) and the like. Occasionally, usually on a Friday, the quote generator on your desk takes the form of a drill sergeant and orders you to do something that you usually do anyway like “Smile at a stranger” (for fans of Tracey Cox, there aren’t enough strangers in the day, and we’re doing a lot more than smiling at them).
Apparently, it was “Do something you’ve never done before day.” And despite my reluctance, I did two. The first was taking orders from an office supply. The second involved nudity and a public place.
For the first time since high school, I used a communal shower, without the security of a curtain. Not as in “Girls Gone Wild” as I alluded, but it was still a big deal for me, as it is for a great number of women. Apparently, there are two kinds of people in this world: naked people and the rest of us. The naked people won’t understand this dilemma, but the rest will, and judging by the line-up of people stalking the curtained-off section of the shower room, there are quite a few of us.
There are different levels of comfort with public nudity. There are the extremely shy people who just don’t do it. They use the bathroom stalls to change whenever they get the chance, and if they can’t do that, they spend twice as long as the rest of the world making sure no one is around while they painstakingly remove their arms from one shirt, so as to change into another in one quick motion which removes one and applies the other with only a nanosecond of nudity.
This is a complicated move that involves precise timing and preparation, including the aligning of neck holes and culminates in pulling the discarded shirt out from under the newly applied one, much like The Amazing Mumford after he has uttered the phrase “a la-peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
Others hide behind their towels and have perfected the art of fastening a bra while holding a terry cloth bath sheet between their teeth. Most just change quickly with as little naked time as possible.
And then there are those who could care less. These are the people walking around, getting drinks, applying lotion, clipping their toenails, what have you, all the while chatting animatedly to anyone who will listen. There is nothing at all wrong with this. It is just that the non-naked people don’t quite understand why the naked people can’t do these things with their clothes on. And the naked people wonder why the non-nakeds are so pathetically modest.
Whether someone is a naked person or not transcends body type and oftentimes self-confidence levels. There are amazingly beautiful and self-confident girls who are very proud of their bodies, but wouldn’t dream of taking more than two steps away from their lockers without their shirts on. There are also plenty of women whose breasts have had their fair share of Mardi Gras moments, and who wouldn’t think twice about stripping down at a nude beach, but put them in a locker room and they’re streaking to the curtained-off shower at speeds that would rival the Millennium Falcon. Not to mention a number of women who have no problem carrying on a nude conversation in the locker room yet wouldn’t dream of even untying their bikini tops at the beach.
So what is it about a locker room that either frees or builds up ones inhibitions?
Maybe it is the fear that everyone will take one look at you and think “those thighs could use another 20 minutes on the elliptical” that keeps women from disrobing? A supreme self-confidence or just a joy of being in the buff keeps some women from donning a robe. There are as many different reasons as there are people.
Most non-nakeds are not trying to be rude they are just uncomfortable. I never know where to look when a naked person is talking to me. I worry about making too much eye contact or whether she will think I’m not listening if I keep looking over her shoulder. And frankly, all this worrying is keeping me from listening to what she is saying. It’s not that I don’t respect the naked people. I just don’t want to talk to them until we both have some clothes on.
I was forced into my non-curtained shower, by a lack of time and a naked woman shaving her legs in the curtained off section without the curtain drawn. Apparently, she was like the person who drives the speed limit in the passing lane and thereby regulates everyone else’s speed. It is her job to force us non-naked people into facing our fears and thereby liberating us from our clothes dependence. I don’t really appreciate either of them. I did not have an epiphany while standing there soaping up in front of the others and realize that I am truly a naked person at heart.
But I did it. I didn’t refuse to shower and let my fear of nudity keep me smelling like gym socks for the evening. So, I guess in some small way that is an accomplishment.
And it will be easier the next time I have to venture into the world of prolonged locker room nudity. But most likely it will just push me to take the steps I need to make sure it doesn’t have to happen again. In the future I will arrive at the gym earlier or give myself more time to get ready because I have discovered that when it comes to locker room nudity: I am so not a naked person.
Donna Strumski is a twentysomething, singleton gypsy who wandered to the Winona area about five years ago. Donna hangs her rucksack in Lewiston. Feel free to
contact her at sacrecouer@u2.com.
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