Was at the Y tonight after work. Nothing out of the ordinary – just the usual assortment of freaks and jackasses. My particular peeve tonight was the jerks who monopolize one of the few weight benches by laying their towel, dumbbells, iPhone (natch), etc. on it, but then just stand next to it kibitzing with some other d’bag rather than actually lifting any weights…
Anyway, pretty much par for the course – it barely elicited a muttered string of obscenities from me… Little did I know, the true outrage and horror was yet to come.
So, I’m in the locker-room (I know – gross) after taking a shower, minding my own business. Then, as I was dressing, I glanced to my right – and at the end of the row of lockers is a huge mirror in which I can see reflected my completely undraped head-to-toe profile. Jesus Christ! Who wants to look at that? I did manage to stifle my screams, but just barely…
Honestly, wouldn’t you think that anyone in charge of designing a locker-room would ensure that one only encounters mirrors when one seeks them out, rather than being unpleasantly surprised by being forced to view the monstrous results of 29 years (ahem) of hard living and gravity? Oy…
Anyway, I’m part way through a box of wine in an attempt to erase that image from my mind. So far it’s not working…
It's a Complete Outrage 