a modest plea for decency

i've officially reached the level of nakedness anyone can be expected to endure in a gym locker room setting.

heartened by the musings of a certain lovely snowflake, i'd taken a new approach to the the locker routine. not cover my freshly showered nudiness, not shy away from the other women shedding their sweaty sports bras all around me. find comfort in the delightful variety that is the woman's body. normally i only enjoy nakedness a) alone 2) with a boy of equal nudity, or as you know, x) for SS photoshoots.

but i was ON BOARD the gym flesh train..... then along came anne.

before you even start your dirty minds surmising... yes, she is sixty plus. no, her body is not a greek paradigm. but these are not at issue. the issue is the vast amount of time anne spends, totally nude having long conversations involving chicken soup recipes. she stands, makes eye contact, and rubs bath'nbody shimmer lotion deeply into her upper thighs. you can't look. you can't not look. she goes to work on the breasts...

it becomes a test of wills. how long can i stand here, chattering away with the nude granny? answer? 'a long fucking time because she never shuts up and refuses to even put on a bra and panties. for chrissakes!'

couple that with the fact that i'm not good at cutting someone short if they really want to talk and you've got a recipe for horror. horror i tell you.

yes, the nakedness lasts all the way through hair and makeup. no, there is no escape.