Leslie has been given a free week-long guest pass to one of Manhattan's swankiest gyms. She has never been a member of any fitness establisment nor does she usually work out. Let's see what happens...
I am amazed at the education I am receiving in the women's locker room. Apparently, there are alot of unspoken rules: asking for someone else's preferred locker number--not okay. Standing in front of the wall mirror with one leg perched on the counter while you apply baby oil and give everyone a free vagina show--totally okay! In fact, I've learned alot about vaginas* this week.
As I only have my own potato to deal with, I didn't realize how many varieties of potatoes there really are: mashed, fried, boiled, groomed, ungroomed...it's amazing! And while it seems that another unspoken rule is to not look at other's potatoes, I choose to ignore this and blatantly stare. But seeing a potato in the locker room is one thing, seeing that same person outside the locker room after staring at their potato is quite another.
After putting my things in a locker that I was sure no one would want, I happened to see (this time not intentionally) a 60-something yr. old woman's potato. I quickly looked the other way and exited the locker room. Upon my arrival to the fourth floor (there are freakin' 6 floors of fitness fun here) I see 60 yr. old potato woman has beat me there by taking the elavator. I felt dirty. I felt ashamed. I felt embarrassed. Here is this sweet old woman getting ready to slowly pedal away on the stationary bike and all I can think is, "I know what your potato looks like." I equate the feeling to someone who runs into an ex-lover on the street and while they are exchanging pleasantries all they can think about is, "I remember that time you farted during sex. And I know about that ugly mole on your back."
So for the rest of the week I'm trying to keep my head down (or up?) and see as few potatoes as possible. Mainly for the selfish fact that I don't want to have awkard, post-sex feelings about elderly women.
*"Vaginas" will be referred to as "potatoes" for the rest of this blog just so I don't have to keep writing "vagina" a million times. Plus I like potatoes quite a bit more than vaginas so it makes perfect sense to me.
6 comments:
O.M.G. I almost wet myself reading this.... Brilliantly funny in a really sick sorta way.
I'm trying to decide between making an eastern european joke or an "oh my god, i can never eat another potato again joke."
Hmmmmm....
Of course you would refer to vaginas as potatoes, because that's the vegetable your people probably evolved from, and also, i will not be able to eat another potato for a very long time and for that me and my eastern european cankles are very angry.
Annnnddd...i did both. quite terribly.
once again, Lizzie learns the hard way to leave the comedy to you.
And Oh My God Now I'm Imagining Potatoes With Hair and Slits.
You disgust me.
and i'm oddly suddenly hungry.
Why don't women wear underwear in the gym changing room?
I do that whole "middle-school girl/sleepover" thing (putting on a shirt, then taking off the one underneath it) when I have to change in public.
Bwa-hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha...
Thanks for that! It's nice to have the female mystique completely shattered. One day, over giant sized coffee mugs in a snooty city cafe' we should totally trade gym room horror stories... loudly and inappropriately.
In my case though, kindly substitute "potato" for "cactus fruit." Bleagh.
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