Naked Monday…

Leap Year is akin to a full moon. Behavior is out of the ordinary. Inhibitions are shed. It’s a discovery made yesterday at the spa.

I work at a spa. It’s a part time job providing this cancer girl with the chance to leave home and get some semblance of exercise in hopes of rebuilding lost butt and boobs. Exercise is going well. Getting out everyday is going well. Nakedness? Not so much.
For reasons unknown, the spa is filled to the brim with naked ladies. Naked at the spa is not unusual. Generally, naked is a flash. Naked moves from the shower to the steam room or a dip in the Jacuzzi. A peek of skin in the locker room is no surprise. Naked as the norm is a horse of a different color.

Casually strolling into the ladies room to deliver towels I find three ladies, completely naked, situated on the locker room bench. No attempts to cover up. Nor are there attempts to cover the designer bench. I doubt the designer meant it to be a naked lady perch. They discuss vacations. They ask my opinion. I worry about how to disinfect the bench. I know I’ll never sit on it again.

“Look in her eyes. Don’t look down,” I tell myself again and again. I mumble something and skitter to the hall. The ladies room is large encompassing steam, showers, sinks, rest rooms, towel station—it’s big. Round the corner and nearly smack into another one. Walking along stark naked.

“Hi,” she greets me.

“Hello,” say I. Am I being punked? She isn’t even holding a towel. And she’s far from the showers.

In the makeup area, there are stools. Balanced upon the stools are a couple of ladies reapplying their faces after steam and shower. You guessed it–both naked. Completely naked. No towels.

I look up and around. No cameras. The only things in this locker room are me and a bunch of naked ladies. Unabashed naked ladies. Not to be bitchy, but these are not ladies that should be participating in the naked parade.

A number of them are older. Perhaps what we have to look forward to is a casting off of inhibitions, a devil may care attitude toward the female form and a laissez-faire approach to joining the naked parade.

Today all is normal: Occasional flashes, half dressed and more decorum. I decide it’s Leap Year’s power that caused some women to go wild on a random Monday and strip off their outer garments. Hopefully, I’m not passing out towels four years from now.


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