Monday, March 9, 2009

The OLD...UGLY...NAKED Truth

My workout routine is the same every workout. 35 to 45 minutes of cardio on the elypitcal, then abs, glutes, and then 1 set/12 reps each of chest, shoulders, back, arms-triceps and biceps-legs. Then it's back to abs, glutes and the whole thing starts all over again...for two more sets.

All in all, my workouts, including cardio, last about an hour and a half.

Then I hit the showers, get dressed, and head home.

Sometimes I mix it up a little. I get all crazy! Sometimes I sit in the sauna for a few minutes and soak up some steam and sweat a little more. It really all depends on how crowded the locker room is...some days are better than others. Sometimes it's just me and maybe one other guy in the large locker room. Sometimes there a crowd. A crowd is okay as long as everyone plays nice and respects everyone else. It's an imperfect world though. Sometimes the locker room is a crowded New York subway. Those are the days the freaks come out. The freaks with little character quirks.

I understand and appreciate that people follow patterns. It's human nature.

You know what I'm talking about. Don't you?

There's the guy at work who always parks in the same parking spot. That's his pattern. There's the person in your family who always has to sit on the left side of the couch when you're watching television. That's their pattern.

People like their patterns and they don't like to change them.

HOW this manifests itself at the gym is quite an interesting phenomenon.

It seems everyone has their favorite locker. It's the one they always use. It's theirs and if you put your stuff in their locker, well, then, they are going to move your stuff and put their stuff in their locker and you had better just accept that fact.

It's happened to me. I know. I took the high road. Plus. The guy was HUGE! And if he had wanted, he couldn't have punched me right in my stuff.

Believe me, there are a few guys who get a little excited when their locker has been taken by someone else. I'm not going to jump to any conclusions and shout ROID-RAGE...but...


Let me explain that the gym I belong to doesn't assign lockers. All the lockers (and these locker are just like the ones you had in high school) are first come-first served. It's the luck of the draw. If you find one and you like it, you can put a lock on it so no one messes with your stuff, but when you leave after your workout, your stuff AND your lock have to go with you.

I don't have a particular locker that is mine. A locker is a locker.

The men's locker room in the gym where I work out is divided into three rows of lockers. There is a row of benches and a large wall sized mirror at the end of each row. I would guestimate that the distance between the lockers facing one another in any of the rows is about 5 feet.

THAT'S not a lot of room. Really. It isn't. Especially when you start piling gym bags on the benches and hanging professionally laundered slacks and dress shirts from hangers on open locker doors. And when you are all crowded around a small cluster of lockers, there is the distinct possibility that someone might touch someone else.

And when you add five or six guys...well...the odds there will be CONTACT increase.

When I walked into the locker room at 5 am this morning, I was the only one in there. When I finished my workout, however, the numbers of men increased by about 7. One guys was standing at the sinks shaving. One guy was crop-dusting the surrounding area with a thick fog of AXE Body spray.

Hey! AXE me if I think you are putting that on a little thick, there Pepe LaPue.

The other 5 guys were all in MY ROW of lockers. And ... (you're not eating are you?) they were all naked....and old. Old and naked. Naked and old.

Now before I get blasted for being a geriatric basher, let me say this. I love old people.

With several exceptions. Those exceptions are as follows:

When they are driving.
I'm not going to go as far as saying that there should be a federal law mandating that once you reach a certain age you should not be allowed to drive. I'm just saying...if you are old enough to remember when there weren't any cars on the road and you still refer to them as horseless buggies....well...then you probably shouldn't be driving a car.

Also, if you can't see over the steering wheel and all the rest of the world sees is a little white cotton top as you drive by, well, maybe its time to turn in the keys.

WHEN THEY ARE NAKED. Old people have every right to be naked. In the privacy of their own homes...or in some cases...under strict supervision in a home.

Everybody enjoys naked time.

It's starts when you are a baby and, after a refreshing diaper change, your mother lets you run for a little while naked. Remember. No? Seriously? You didn't have a naked time when you were little? How sad. Surely there were several occassions in college? That company Christmas party two years ago?...

The point I'm trying to make here is that it is okay to be naked.

And if you are 65 years old and proud of your body, well, then good for you, BUT put your old johnson away and get dressed! There is a time and place for everything.

And let's face it. Some people should NEVER be naked in public. Locker room or not.

Nobody wants to see Willard Scott do the weather naked. It's okay, Willard. We know what the forecast is. Chubby with a 90% chance of droopy.

Barbara Walters should never be seen naked. It's one VIEW no one cares about.

This is not a question of respect. I respect my elders and cherish the elderly of the world.

This is a question of comfort. Mainly...mine.

It's simple. I don't want to be surrounded by naked old men. I know! Call me crazy! Blame it on an irrational fear of some old guys balls slapping me on the calf as he shuffles by.

You've seen the old guys at the gym.
YOU KNOW what I'm saying!

You can usually find them walking on the treadmills. And the tread mill is usually on the slowest speed possible and if you look close enough, you can actually see a spider building a web between the walker's knees. They are also usually wearing some sort of cute little outfit you just know their wives picked out for them. Hell. Their wife probably has the matching outfit.

And so for about an hour, they stroll on the treadmills talking to one another and ogling the younger ladies in their tight little workout outfits.

Yeah. There are some hot 80 year olds in my gym. They know they're hot and they do all their stretching right in front of the cardio area. Sluts! You should be home baking cookies and watching The Price is Right or Murder She Wrote.

Then, after their workout, the old men grab a steam and a shower.

This morning I was surrounded by five old men. Five naked old men. It was like a casting call for a porno version of Grumpy Old Men. And God Bless them, there wasn't a good looking one in the lot.

You know what I'm talking about...Sometimes you come across that one 70 year old guy who has taken really good care of himself and still looks great for his age and everyone says “You know, Stan, you look like you're still in your 50's.”

Yeah. Well. Stan wasn't there today.

Instead I had Abe Vigoda's stunt double from Barney Miller, Benjamin Franklin, the guy who played Uncle Billy in It's A Wonderful Life, Andy Rooney (in Andy Rooney's voice: “You ever notice how old man balls look like two golf balls in the leg of a pair of pantyhose? Why is that?)

Yes. Yes Andy I have noticed. Now throw your old kit bag over your shoulder and march on home.

Where was I?

Oh yeah.

Then there was the fifth guy who joined our little naked game of hokey-pokey group in Locker Row #1. (Let's hope for some hokey and not too much pokey)

I couldn't see his face because he was turned the other way. Luckily he was wearing his towels tucked up over his breasts and I didn't get see his body.

But then he dropped his towel and turned around.

Great. Now I know what Yoda looks like naked.

So there we were. Me. Abe's stunt-geezer. Ben. Andy. Uncle Billy. And Jedi-Master supreme, Yoda.

I was the only one still dressed in my sweaty gym clothes. Everyone else had dropped trow and they were talking to one another about whatever it is naked old men talk about.

“You see the grandkids this weekend?”
“It's the best buffet in town! Get there by 5 or it fills up...”
“Hey, Sol. Did you know you were standing on your left ball?”
“I peed seven times last night. Pity. I only got up twice.”

I think that's what they were saying. I really couldn't hear them. By then, I was making my way to my happy place.

You put your left foot in.
You put you left foot out.

Pray you don't step on your own sack.

Then the awkward dance began. I think it actually occurred in slow least that's how my mind stored the image.

There were arms lifting and elbows bumping into other elbows. Wrinkled butts bumped into wrinkled butts. Old man breasts slapped into old man breasts. Some were stretching. Some were twisting. It was like a taffy factory in a Tim Burton movie.

If they had been playing CHARADES, I would have guessed “the End of the World?”


How about Velveeta cheese in a blender? Really. No again, huh?
Ok. Well. I give up. Excuse me please while I drop a 75 dumbbell on my head.

All that loose flesh. Jiggling to the left. Jiggling to the right. Like those wave machines Spencer's Gifts sells. I'd never seen so much loose skin in my life. I wondered if I had pressed one of them down onto the Sunday comics would I be able to peal the image up off the paper...and then stretch Garfield's face this way and that?

The truth is, NO MAN wants to look at another man's penis. Especially someone who used to play kickball with Moses.

There are exceptions though. We all know what they are. And for the purpose of this blog, let us assume that "NO MAN" shall be defined as any heterosexual man who is perfectly comfortable and confident about his own sexuality but gets freaked out by old man junk.

As I was saying, NO MAN wants to see another's man's penis.

And trust me! There is nothing worse than being fully dressed and running into a naked friend as you are leaving the locker room. Because no matter what you are talking about's there....inches away from you....just looking for attention. His penis. His naked penis. You can hear it screaming: “Hey! You! You weren't looking at me, were you? You got something to say? Seriously, Dude. WHAT are you staring at? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM, MAN?!”

(And for the record: If penises had voices, they would not be the voices of the man whose penis it was. All penises have the same voice. It's the voice of Ralph Cramden from The Honeymooners.) I am surrounded by 5 old penises....and ten...old balls....It was like being in the middle of a high school reunion for tortoises...the really old kind that you see on The Today Show who are celebrating their 125th birthday. Old penises. Bobbing. Weaving. Some didn't move at all. They had given up years ago and were just lying there waiting to fall off.

I know...I know...I am probably revealing too many secrets of men's locker rooms and I will probably be brought up on charges by the Fraternity of Men....but I think even they would agree this was an extreme situation.

It was horrible. Especially when Abe Vigoda's stunt man put one foot on the bench to put lotion on his foot. And bent over. And the seas parted.

The horror. The horror.

Babies have cute little tushies. They're smooth and wrinkly and pink and cute. EVERYBODY loves cute little baby tushies!

Old men have bleached white wrinkled butts. There is nothing cute about them. And this guy's butt looked like someone had carved a baby elephant out of old blue cheese and pressed it against a window pane.

The horror. The horror.

I'll make you a deal, Gollum. If you put some underpants on, I will give you the Ring of Mordor.

I contemplated jumping into the sauna for a minute or two. I like a good steam after a workout, but I decided against it. I had been trapped in the sauna before with naked old men and those scars will probably never heal. All I will say is that I will never order steamed shrimp from a seafood restaurant again.

Today there was the possibility of 5 naked old men joining me for a steam.

For the record: THAT'S what telephone booths are like in Hell.

I decided to strip, grab my shower gear, and leave the cast of Cocoon 3: The Sagging to finish getting dressed.

I took a really long shower
(truth is-I was trying to wait until I thought my row-mates would be gone-or at the very least-dressed) and just as I began to prune, I turned off the water, shook myself dry, wrapped my towel around my waist, and headed back to The Land That Time Forgot.

Surprisingly, three of the men had left. One, Uncle Billy from It's A Wonderful Life, and Yoda remained. Uncle Billy was dressed at least. Yoda, on the other hand was wearing one of those white, old man vest-style undershirts and nothing else.

And even more surprisingly, now even Uncle Billy was looking a little uncomfortable about standing so close to a naked man and it was funny seeing him trying to not look directly at the half naked Jedi-Master in front of him.

And of course...There was Yoda's penis, peeking out from under the long undershirt, screaming out loud,
“What? You not going to say good bye? Oh. I get it! You think you're better than me cause you got clothes on? Hey! Remember this, Pallie-Boy! I've seen you naked! I've seen your boobies! I know you wear a MAN-ZIER!”

And there I was trying to get dressed and out of there before I did any more damage to my psyche.

I dropped my towel and turned to face my locker. Yoda had piled all of his things on the bench between us, so I gathered my things, walked several feet down to the empty end of the row, and set up camp there.

I started to dry off completely.
Uncle Billy left.

It was just me and the semi-naked Yoda. The perfume of naked old man lingered in the air. It was quiet. Too quiet.

I turned the other way and found myself staring into the large mirror and directly at Yoda. Who was now bending over trying to put his socks on. His black thigh high socks. I wondered if there would be garters. And then I threw up in my mouth....just a little.

I dressed quickly and packed my gym bag. I exchanged quick pleasantries with the funny, little STILL NAKED man who was now straddling the bench (WHY?) to put his deodorant on.

(I DUNNO. Maybe the breeze felt good? Who knows?)

I left the locker room and headed for the front door.

I knew that as soon as I told my girlfriend, who was still in the ladies locker room finishing up getting ready, she would give me that look and say, 'You know. You're going to be old one day.”

She's right. I will be old one day. And more than likely, I will want some naked time.

I just hope I have the presence of mind to have a little modesty.

I hope I am still pretty good shape.

And I hope that if I do decide to enjoy some naked time, I'm not in line at the DMV.

and that's “Jody” with a “y”

1 comment:

  1. OK, it took me quite a while to finish this one. I kept having to stop because I was laughing so hard, my eyes were tearing up.

    Every man in the world needs to read this!!