Picture from weheartit
Dear Gym Rat,
First, I’d just like to say how much I admire your endurance. There’s no way I could do 45 minutes at level 15 on that Adaptive Motion Trainer. Ten minutes at level 1 and my calves are cramping, so you go, girl!
But just because I am in awe of your stamina and envious of your non-jiggly thighs, does not mean I want to share your funk.
In the row of six available showers, I purposely select the one at the end because it only abuts one other shower. I always choose an end one. ALWAYS. An end shower means less chance of a draft that will wrap the slimy, mildew-spotted shower curtain around my legs. It also means my shower can only be potentially contaminated by the splash-over of one other shower.
I know I’m type-A, but I honestly thought every female on the planet would share this aversion to foreign splash-over. Moreover, I thought all women, being the considerate creatures that we are, would be careful not to inflict such contamination on others.
But not you! In a row of five vacant showers, you choose the one RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Before I can dry off and escape to the safety of the lockers, you have turned your shower on full blast. In the blink of an eye, your water, your shampoo, your soap, your funk are splashing under the shower wall onto my recently scrubbed feet, ankles, calves.
Ick, ick, ICK!!! I am contaminated.
Now I’m torn between trying to stand outside my shower, putting my right leg in then my left leg in hokey-pokey-style to rinse off your splashed-on funk (without acquiring more in the process), running down to the other end shower for a quick rinse before anyone else comes in, or retreating to my locker to slather hand sanitizer all over my lower legs (FYI, that stuff stings like hell).
Next time, for the love of Pete, can you please leave a one-stall buffer? Better yet, pick the other end shower. You’ll love not getting your cheeks (the ones you just tortured for 45 minutes at level 15) caressed by the moldy shower curtain.
With sincere gratitude,
The clean freak in the end stall
October 15, 2013 at 5:54 AM
Yucky-poo! My husband has told me tales about the men’s locker room at out local gym which reaffirm that men have a different idea of ‘hygeine’. *shudder* And I believe I’d been dunking my body in Purell also.