So as mentioned in this post here, I started going to hot yoga classes a couple of weeks ago.
The yoga itself is fabulous.
The change room experience…
…not so fabulous.
It’s a very small confined space in which 50 women are vying for a square foot area in which to peel off their soaked yoga attire.
Now as some of you know, I’m a nurse.
Which means I see naked people, which means naked body parts.
Lots of body parts.
In this setting, I’m very comfortable seeing these body parts.
But in the change room setting, not only am I not going to show you my body parts, but I don’t want to see yours.
Oh sure, I know you’re thinking that I come on here and post pictures of myself in teeny tiny attire (for example here and here,) and yes, I’ll admit that self-promotion is a bit of a compulsion of mine. Seeking constant validation is not for the faint of heart.
But when I’m in a change room, and I’m stripping off my tank top and/or my shorts, I will wrap my towel around myself in such a way that allows me to wrestle my wet clothing off and surreptiously slip into my dry clothing.
My back will be to you.
I will be quick.
Quite possibly you won’t even notice that I’ve changed until I’m standing before you with my yoga mat under one arm, my backpack on the other, and I’m asking, “Ready to go?”
The other day, however, I decided to scoot to the bathroom before leaving the change room.
As I sprinted through the mass of naked bodies, my eyes straight ahead, focussing on reaching the area where the toilet stalls are located, I see it.
Coming right at me.
The biggest, hairiest vagina. I. Have. Ever. Seen.
Granted I don’t see many, and I’m by no means an expert.
But this woman’s “bikini area” was unique in that it had probably never been groomed.
The pubic hair spanned her entire mid-section.
Thick, bushy, brown.
You’re probably wondering why I’m even able to describe it so vividly if I was averting my eyes.
Well, the reason is that, in this small, enclosed change area, this woman and I came to a halt.
image from here
The passage way was narrow.
One of us was going to have to squeeze past the other.
A show down.
I’m smiling politely with a “please don’t let your unkept pubic area touch my leg” look.
And she’s smiling at me with an “oh you ain’t gonna fit past this bush, lady!” smirk.
Obviously, I did finally get around.
And obviously, it was painless.
It was fine.
Hardly even worth writing about.
However, when I was first thinking about this post, it was going to be a rant; a “ladies, there is no need to wander around naked in the change room. The rest of us don’t care to see it” kind of thing.
But honestly, the more I thought about it, the more I gave credit to that woman.
Because how terrific it must be to be so comfortable in your skin, that you can walk around a women’s change room naked.
Just wandering around.
Then I realized that I could really learn from this woman.
Not the part about the immensely hairy vagina.
I still think she should take the scissors to it and trim a few feet off.
The other part.
The carefree la-de-da part.
I need to learn some of that.