Naked in the Steam Room

It seems that lately, I always run into the same wonderfully gorgeous naked woman in the steam room at my gym.  She’s very tall, seems to be in her late 30s, with strong legs, tan skin, and a small nature tattoo on her lower back.  I assume she’s a brunette from the small hairs that escape her towel wrap but I have yet to confirm this.

To be honest, I’m amazed I’ve been able to glean this much from the brief glances I’ve snuck across the thick cloud of vapor in the steam room, but as I’ve said, we always seem to be the only two people in there at the same time 4-6 days a week.

I find myself fascinated by this confident woman! She’s the only one I’ve seen go fully nude.  Most other women (including myself) will strip down and put on one of the complimentary rough white towels, throw their hair up into a messy bun, and grab an extra towel to sit or lay down on while meditating in the steam room. This seems to be the acceptable, the norm, the medium, between fully nude and those few women who wear their already sweaty work out gear (plus shoes!) into the humid area.  The one woman receives a few under the lash glances and small quiet smiles in admiration of her audacity and bravery while the other gets pursed lips and a wide eyed stare before being fully ignored.

I’m not sure what the men’s changing room is like, and I’m very sure I don’t want to know, but for those who are confused as to why a fully nude woman in a gym locker room shocks me I tell you it is not the norm!  There are discrete back turns when changing into sports bras and strategically placed towels while pulling on underwear!  Many women even go into the closed door changing rooms in order to avoid the anxiety.

I think it’s less that woman are ashamed of their own bodies and more that they are afraid they will offend the other women present with their nudity.  The cry of “Good God, woman, have some decency! There are children here!” echoes in our minds.

That’s why this woman, this beautifully statuesque brunette with the small teal tattoo fascinates me.  She seems to hear neither her own self-doubts nor the silent recriminations of other women.  She owns her body, realizing it for what it is: her own to do with as she pleases. She is neither flamboyant nor timid as she stands up from the tile bench and stretches, reaching down to pick up the towel she had been laying on, and wrapping it around herself.  Our eyes meet, a soft chocolate brown somewhat surprised to see I’ve been admiring her.  Not in a sexual way (though I have been debating leaving her a business card next time I run into her) but as one self-possessed woman admires the daring courage of another.  I smile softly as she opens the door and leaves and vow to myself “I’m totally going naked next time.”