Oversharing: Naked at the YMCA

Helloooo! Welcome to a Tuesdaylicious Oversharing, brought to you by Kerry from HouseTalkN. The name and blog sound familiar? That’s because Kerry’s funny is featured in the Momthology I Just Want to Pee Alone (you did buy it, didn’t you?!). She graciously agreed to participate in my Oversharing: I Ain’t Scarrred Series the second I advertised it and for that, I love her. Well, I also love her because she was nekkid at the YMCA, but I’ll let her tell you about that…

 

We had taken our four little darlings to the YMCA for some family basketball and a quick swim. As we were winding up our nightly shenanigans visit, my mister offered, “Why don’t I take the kids home and you stay here to relax in the women’s hot tub?” By the time he uttered “hot tub” I was already sprinting toward the “Women Only” sign.

In my rush, I forgot that I had (literally) left my mister holding the bag. The bag with all of our wet suits. The bag with MY suit. The suit with a hawt matching skirt. The skirt that I swore I would never own. I spent the next 37 seconds having a mental argument with myself. Here is a sampling of the thoughts that were flying through my head.

-It’s almost closing time…I bet everyone else is gone already.
-I.cannot.get.in.there.naked!
-Just do it, stop being a chicken!
-God is smiting me for making fun of the casually naked folks that stand around the locker room talking/drying hair/applying make-up/doing jumping jacks -while naked- as if doing these things NAKED is totally normal. Would you do these things while naked in front of house guests or in any other setting?
-Look what has happened to me! I am afraid to get naked all by my d**n self in a women’s locker room hot tub.

I finally threw caution to the wind, stripped down and climbed into the hot tub. A full 6 seconds passed before I heard the dreaded squeak of the door. I quickly positioned myself so that the intruder would not be able to see my…er, situation.

Big mistake.

As Ms. Stepford bounced into the hot tub, in full make-up, coiffed hair and her very appropriate tankini, she was unprepared for what awaited her. Her smile quickly faded as we both stared at the wall for answers. She lasted in the hot tub for 9 seconds. She didn’t even warn the young swimmer that she knocked over on her way out.

That’s right.

Next up- a college hard body swimmer type. She also met the sneak attack. Not having the sophistication of Ms. Stepford to look away, Ms. Hard Body actually gawked.

I could see that this was going to be a standoff. She was either too competitive to bolt or she was frozen with fear.
I contemplated an attempt at conversation. What would I say? “Just you wait, this will happen to your body, too?” I knew that “You want a piece of this?” could be misconstrued.

It was the creak of the door that put me over the edge…sent me into naked freak out land.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I panicked. I bolted.
As I was leaping over Ms. Hard Body Gawker, I assured myself that it couldn’t get any worse.
Wrong.

The newest addition to my hell was a woman with a headscarf. The very picture of modesty had entered the YMCA locker room precisely in time to see a naked American woman flying through the air.

It took another 13 seconds to get dressed and perform the run of shame to the lobby.
I was shocked to see that my family had just reached the lobby.
Had all of that just happened in such a short amount of time?
Was I in the Twilight Zone?

Here is the part about why I love my husband. Besides the part about family YMCA nights, and besides the part about taking the kids home. My mister took one look at me and knew that this was no time for silly questions. He spoke the sweetest, most romantic words ever.

“Kids, run for the van.”

*******

Love Kerry like I do? Check out her blog HERE or follow her on FB HERE.

If you want to participate, check out the Oversharing page (above) on my blog!

Kerry is addicted to houses! She loves to look at them, talk about them, think about them, visit them and talk about them some more! House TalkN is a fun lookiloo at houses, houses, houses. It answers pressing questions like, “When folks build a McMansion on a small lot, what are they compensating for?” or “Was the real estate agent drunk when they staged this house?” or “Why don’t the Smiths’ ever leave their drapes open when [Kerry is] on a harmless walk-by?”