I walked into the gym dressing room a couple of days ago and there was a young woman standing there, full-on naked, as if to say “so, so, suck your toe, all the way to Mexico.” No towel draping, nothing. That part I’m kind of used to. Things like that happen in gym locker rooms. But the weird part is she stood there staring at me as I walked in, freaking daring me to make eye contact. When I finally did, she said, “hi”, as if I had moseyed into her office to discuss mortgage rates.
I walked past Mistress Buff to get to my locker, which was situated right beside a mirror. Lady Godiva put her shirt on, but remained bottomless, and waited. I’m not kidding. The next woman walked in, and She of the Proud Bush stood there, hands on hips, silently demanding the woman make eye contact, which she did, and then the fig leaf-less Eve said “hi”. It was uncomfortable to watch, and I couldn’t look away. But thanks to the mirror, I didn’t have to stare directly into the snatch.
I’ve been thinking about this for two days now. I’ve worked out many scenarios that would create a motivation to make naked eye contact. I could make sense of it maybe if it was an elderly woman who was declaring with her nudity, “Look at me! I am proud of this body that has lived a rich life.” Or maybe if she was surgically enhanced and wanted to get her money’s worth of admiration. But no, she was young and natural. And for the guys who read my blog (there’s at least one, I think), yes, her body was decent. But nothing that justified demanding attention from every female who walked in the room.
So the point is: I still don’t get it, and now you all know that I go to the gym without me posting it on Facebook.
Scapegoats and Sacred Cows 