But Lord, surely he stinketh.
John 11:39, more or less.
“The men’s locker room reeks,” my friend told me as we were leaving the gym.
Every visit to the gym—yes, every—ends this way, with information on the men’s locker room. Apparently the guys like to walk around naked and dripping wet from the showers and saunas. The floor is always a puddle, making it difficult to change shoes without getting your socks wet. There are naked men sitting on the benches, and, as my friend tells me, it smells like feces, Axe body spray, and BO (especially when the high school boys show up). In the midst of it all, they are mixing their protein drinks with fussy powders on the sloppy counters, and some guys are blasting music and rapping and dancing to it.
The women’s locker room, in contrast, is lovely.
Always fairly tidy. Clean. Dry floor. Not noisy. Ladies wearing clothing. The wafting scents of light perfume coming from the coats and clothes stashed in the lockers. Pleasant greetings as we all go about our business of coming or going from the gym. Towels are always in use if water is involved. Toilet smells rare.
“You guys are disgusting,” I told him. “My locker rooms smells like baby powder.”
I get virtual scolds about my love of perfume, particularly in this day when everything must be natural or organic.
“If you just ate clean and healthy you wouldn’t need perfumes because your body’s pheromones wouldn’t stink!” they say.
Whatever. I love designer perfume. Coco Chanel Mademoiselle is the best, but costs even more than a tank of gas.
We joked about hiding pine tree car air fresheners in the tops of the high lockers in the men’s locker room. It could work, maybe.
“I really don’t have an advice for you, beyond get in and get out,” I said. “It’s just gross.”
The cost of getting fit is higher than I’d imagined.