Dear Naked Guy (and your friend)
It’s a new year and I need to applaud you for making some kind of commitment to a healthy lifestyle. For having a resolution to reduce the circumference of your wildly expanding gut. For getting off the couch at the crack of dawn, to run/lift/step/climb/spin. Good for you.
Being new to the whole fitness culture, I understand that you might be unaware of the generally accepted cardinal rules of gym behavior. There are the obvious ones like (1) Don’t grunt, (2) Don’t take selfies in front of the mirror, (3) Don’t perve at ladies squatting, (4) Wipe the bench and (5) Put the f*cking weights back on the rack. But this letter relates to the more specific things you should avoid doing in the semi-private space of the change room.
It has to be said that there are only a few things I hate more than the change room of a gym. These would include pedophiles, drunk drivers, Kanye West and cockroaches. I mean with an odour of soap and sweat hovering around like paparazzi, the risk of athlete’s foot hijacking you at any moment, the piles of socks and underwear getting a life of their own and the inevitable sighting of you and your hanging partner…what is there not too like?
The only reason why I enter that horrid place would be because my parents didn’t raise an ape and I use a toilet to pee. I’m also astutely aware that a million other sweaty men have touched the barbells and dumbbells that I was handling for the last hour. And because I don’t want to contract Ebola or Hepatitis A-Z, I need to wash my hands after training.
The general lay-out in any change room places the shower area out of the general view from people like me, who would rather sacrifice both arms and all my front teeth than use a gym shower. (Yes sir, I take my sweaty, pumped body home and clean it there, deal with it.) The main reason for this orientation is because some men don’t necessarily enjoy casual conversation with other men, especially when they’re naked. Therefore the showers are purposefully located AWAY from the area that includes lockers, basins and toilets.
The idea is that once one has stripped down and piled one’s soaked clothes in a heap, one should take a towel and wrap it around one’s waist and hide Escaliber from the general view BEFORE taking a casual stroll to the shower area. I don’t care how big you think your member is, I certainly don’t want to see him at 6-o-clock in the f*cking morning. Actually, I never want to see it, thank you very much.
What’s even worse, and this is actually why I’m forced to write you this letter, is the fact that after you’ve finished your shower, you, being an inconsiderate motherf*cker, prance around the change room, showing off your light saber like some perverted Jedi knight. Again, I’m not there to share in a public viewing of your freakish genitals. Please put that thing away.
Then you have the audacity to brush your teeth at the basins, right next to the toilets, all the while still swinging your excavator and wrecking balls around. What planet/country are you from? Penisville? Willyland? Dicktopia? It’s totally unnatural.
I was an innocent man, washing my hands just like my Mom taught me, only to turn the corner, when I was nearly poked in the eye by your Darth Vader. I’m emotionally scared from the experience and have booked a week off for trauma counselling, because what I saw this morning, I can never unsee again. Is that thing even real?
Not too mention my poor teenage son, who by the way, now have one more thing he needs to deal with in his life, after seeing your Anaconda slithering around as you were cleaning your purly whites. I don’t think he will be leaving his room any time soon. He was still curled up in a fetile position, sucking his thumb, when I left for work this morning. Shame on you. It’s just sick.
Therefore sir, PLEEEEASE, I beg of you, as a courtesy to all the other fragile, exhausted, normal-endowed men who are walking around the common area of the change room, totally unprepared to have your monster sausage shoved in our faces, not too mention your fat, hairy ass and D-cup man-boobs…
USE A TOWEL.
(Excuse me while I throw up. Again. It’s only the fourth time this morning.)