December 06, 2010
This blog is supposed to be an online diary of travel and life abroad as a SAHD but occasionally, I like a rant that has absolutely nothing to do with these things, if nothing else other than to let off steam and ask those unanswered questions or have a moan. This post has also been inspired by a routine from one of the best British comedians Michael McIntyre. See here when you have read below.
What is it about male changing rooms that I hate? Everything. I try to go to the gym when I can get time off from my man wife duties to try to relax. I pound the electric tread mill while watching Russian TV that I don't understand, I then quickly throw on my swimming shorts on and go for a swim, steam and Jacuzzi. I find myself looking at the younger Russian women, while I sit in the jacuzzi trying not to swallow the blue toxic bubbles. These women are nice to look at, I am old and it makes change from the half tone whales you see belly flopping into the pool, so forgive my private voyeurism. After this water peep ritual, I head on up to the men's locker room to wash and dress.This is a place that fills me with fear and dread.
Why is that men of all shapes and sizes prance and dance about with everything waving about like washing in the wind? They bend over, reach up and make phone calls, in the nude with their meat and two veg flapping about, short men, fat men, hairy men and bald men. The drying process is complicated and rather horrible. They towel off every area and dry every crevice and crack on their bodies with such vigor and joy, it really is disgusting to behold. Some stand buck naked in front of the mirror, while blow drying their hair and willies for hours. In the shower they lather up, soap their entire bodies while cleaning out their noses and spitting in the shower. As for me, I get in, shower and dry as quickly as possible and leave. Job done. The male body, best kept hidden in my opinion. I vote to change with the women much more interesting, less hairy and totally delicious. Rant over.
Labels: washing in Moscow