Have You Ever Noticed...

...how slowly time moves when something mortifying is going to happen?

It's possible - nay, indubitable, that the Chief Operating Officer (affectionately, COO) of my organization saw me buck naked this morning at the gym. We're not talking full frontal, NC-17 naked...more like teenage boys watching a woman skinny dipping getting out of the pool, PG-13 naked. Only the woman is sopping wet, scurrying first to the sauna where she tries to shake water off herself like a dog, then across the slippery YWCA tile floor to the automatic paper towel machine, waving her arm frantically to activate it, running from the machine to the locker area trying not to fall on her bare ass, looking over her shoulder to avoid such an embarrassing thing and seeing the aforementioned COO entering the locker room, trying just as hard not to see the woman, but of course, failing miserably.

I forgot my towel.

Ordinarily, I could care less about being naked in the gym locker room. I'm certainly not an exhibitionist, like:

-the woman who loofahs her ass in front of the vanity mirrors so everyone has the opportunity not only to witness this display but also to catch flecks of sloughed off skin as they walk past;
-the ones who get totally naked, then go put on makeup and/or style their hair before getting dressed. I don't know if you've ever watched a woman blow dry her hair, but sometimes they bend over so they can blow dry upside down for added body. In this case, more body for everyone;
-the ones who take extra great and extreme care in soaping and rinsing every crevice in the shower;
-add your own bizarre locker room behavior here - talk to any woman who goes to the YWCA.

I think women's bodies are beautiful, I really do. Behaviors? Those are something else. Loofa-ing your ass? Something that you need to do in the confines of your own bathroom. Period.

I'm content to be someone who takes off sweaty clothes, wraps themselves in a towel (assuming I've remembered it), goes and has a group shower, dries off, gets dressed and gets out. That's it. No shows. No flare. No NC-17 rating. Call me old fashioned.

But I digress.

I forgot my towel. There were really few courses of action at my disposal - I didn't have any money to rent one, I didn't have any clothes on, I was going to be late if I went home to shower before going to work.

Maybe I should just accept that at the gym, women fit into a new category of gym-goers and for that hour a day are not to be saddled with additional labels, like "coworker". Or "superior". For now, I'll continue to live in the slowed down time mode, awaiting the moment where I actually have to meet the COO's eyes for the second time today - albeit with clothes ON.