Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Think fast!
I hadn’t been to this location of my gym in several months. The In Shape on White Lane tends to be less well air-conditioned than the other locations, more crowded, or both. But I had business on this side of town. Food business. The guy who runs medical records (a man who knows his food) told me there was a new market nearby, supposedly a “Mediterranean” market whatever that is, and I wanted to check it out. And a good butcher nearby, too. So I had two reasons to sweat my stuff at the White Lane gym.
Everything looked a little new or different. I wondered if they had remodeled, or if I had simply been away too long. When I went into the locker room, I was sure they had remodeled. Painted the lockers, perhaps? I didn’t know. The place looked a whole lot cleaner than I had remembered.
I’d gotten out of my pants and into my gym shorts when a woman (fortunately fully clothed) walked over to the sinks.
My first thought: The lockers have gone co-ed here? Whoa.
Then: Think fast. Did you see any urinals when you walked in?
Sadly, no.
“Um,” I said, “this is the women’s locker room, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure anymore,” she said.
I contemplated telling her how it was all okay, since I was after all just a lesbian trapped in a man’s body, but all I managed was, “Whew. That was close,” and I grabbed my pants out of the locker and retreated to the men’s locker room, which was just as nasty as I had remembered.
But I read the Locker Room Rules this time, and you know what? I didn’t do anything wrong. They have rules against taking photos with cell phones and rules against allowing opposite-sex children over the age of five into the locker room, but no rules against allowing creepy balding almost-fifty-something men into the women’s.
They really ought to do something about that.
D.
