Apparently Old Men Blow Dry Their Balls in the Locker Room

Yay! My first click bait blog post title! I bet it convinced you to click. Don't lie to yourself. I promise, more on that later, but first to the planned topic of this post: acceptable parading of boobies in the women's locker room.

If you are a girl, chances are you had your first encounter with old lady boobs and the magnificent full silver bush in the women's locker room when you were a child -- you know, when you were old enough that staring was rude but still too young to help yourself. Don't lie.

When you were a teenager, you probably either avoided the locker room altogether, or performed towel/clothing acrobatics to avoid having anyone see your perky young boobs -- the ones you'd miss desperately by the time you hit your mid-20s. Don't lie.

By the time you were out of college and were faced with paying for a gym membership, getting naked in the locker room had probably just become par for the course. Everyone else stripped down and then concealed themselves in a tiny within a respectable period of time, so you just fell in line with the crowd. You still saw plenty of exposed lady bits, but everyone saw yours as well.

This is why you'd think that it wouldn't be a big effing deal to nurse your 2 month old baby in the women's locker room. I certainly didn't think it would be a big deal. Good lord, was I wrong. Apparently, women of a certain age have no problem parading around their old boobies and splaying their legs luxuriantly in the sauna, but if you so much as put a baby in the vicinity of a boob, someone is going to ask you to cover up. I have attempted to nurse my daughter in peace three times in the locker room at my gym so far. Each time, without fail, I have been offered a towel so that I can "cover up" -- sometimes by other members, sometimes by employees.

A digression on the subject of breastfeeding in public. While I try to avoid overt displays of nipple in the public arena, I am completely unconcerned about breastfeeding in public. If someone is offended by catching a glimpse of nipple in the .05 seconds it takes my piranha (ahem, baby) to latch on, that's their damn problem, not mine. Other mommies, if you feel uncomfortable about nursing in public, that's totally your choice. Everyone has different comfort levels. Just as I refuse to be shamed about nursing in public, I refuse to shame others about deciding not to do so.

Anyway, every time some scandalized looking woman in a towel offers to help me cover up, I've politely declined by saying that breasts are a fairly regular siting in a locker room, and I'm all good. Then I go back to paying attention to my personal vacuum (ahem, baby).

Today, in an attempt to comply with the new workout plan and thus avoid another night of terrible consequences, I found myself in the women's locker room, hitched to a pump like a common dairy cow. Naturally, it took approximately five seconds for an aging biddy to sidle up and offer me a towel -- this, despite the fact that my shirt was covering the pump apparatus. Honestly, it's an effing locker room. I will never understand.

So, now to the part you've been waiting for. As I was bitching to Mark about the incredibly hypocrisy happening in the women's locker room, he suddenly decides to inform me that apparently some old dudes in the locker room blow dry their balls.


(1) Their are blow dryers in the men's locker room?
(2) Do they use the cool setting?
(3) If not, does this result in swamp balls?
(4) Or worse ... chestnuts roasting on an open fire?

So many questions!

Mark has asked me to inform you that he does not participate in this activity.


  1. I am appalled that you are getting so much flack in a locker room. And floored. I never thought in a 100 years someone would say something to you in there. I've been known to walk down the street with baby attached to my boob and nothing. I thought I would use a cover up but then decided screw it. I'm breast feeding where my baby can breath and don't care if people have issue with it either. Power to you Rachel, power to you.


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