Okay. I just looked at myself in the mirror, and I’m not that far gone … yet! I was standing there naked, my hair wet (at both ends, boom!) because I had just stepped out of the shower. Pecs aren’t bad, gut’s not offensive, and I’m relatively well proportioned (wink wink).
So why am I not comfortable being naked?
I went to the YMCA today in Boise, Idaho. Did a little cardio and lifted some weights. All of which was great.
The downtown Y here is well equipped, happy people coming and going. But there’s an entire other world inside the men’s locker room.
A naked world.
Of naked men.
And it’s not a pretty sight.
Recently, I read an article on the benefits of a dry sauna (it’s good for you skin and liver, among other things), and it just so happens that the Boise Y has one inside of the men’s locker room. So what the hell, right, why not give it a try?
I stripped down to my shorts, grabbed a towel, and entered.
Four elderly men were sitting there naked. Two with their legs spread unnaturally wide. One guy had his knees hiked up to his chin. Another was sitting crisscross apple sauce, and what was I supposed to do? Turn around and leave? I certainly should have, but damn if those health benefits didn’t sound appealing.
I sat as far away from the spectacle as space allowed.
Naked men came and went, one after another, young and old, and I’m telling myself not to look. For the love of God, don’t do it. But then boom, there’s a thin and shriveled penis sauntering in without a care in the world. And I ask myself why? Why doesn’t he have any shame or sense of decency? Am I the only modest man left in this world?
They wanted to know how I was doing, and I hadn’t the nerve to tell them that I was doing poorly, uncomfortable having a conversation with a man whose hairy, limp penis is resting between his pasty, meaty thighs on the sweaty wooden bench.
“So, how about them Boise State Broncos? That was quite the game the other night.”
“How about putting some shorts on? Or covering yourself with a towel? At the very least, how about hacking some of the rain forest away, I mean Jesus, just look at that mess.”
I didn’t say that, of course. Simply agreed that the Broncos might have a good team this year as hairy penises and even hairier balls paraded before me.
There’s a market out there for manscaping, and perhaps I should get on the cutting edge, so to speak. Not the grooming, per say, as I hardly groom myself; perhaps own a shop, employ attractive women with sharp blades, write a jingle to stir up business. Bieber cut or shiny, clean cut man or slimy, come on in, we’ll try not to grin, even if you’re tiny. No good? How about this: We don’t care if you got the drip, come on in and we’ll give you a clip. Still no good? Okay, here: Standing tall or feeling limp, girl’s don’t want no hairy chimp! Now get your ass in here, and we’ll shave your balls!
And we’ll have coupons, two for the price of one.
You don’t like the blades, we’ll give you wax! You don’t like the wax, we’ll give you the laser. You don’t like to sag, we’ll give you a lift. You’re balls are too small for the sac, we’ll give you replacements. A ball job, kind of like a boob job, only sexier.
Imagine the locker room conversations then, everyone so clipped up and neat, sophisticated, uptight scrotums. Instead of underbrush, we’d have fashion statements, our initials shaved above our genitals so that our loved ones won’t forget our names, not that they would be able to say our names at the time … am I right, or am I right?
At Junk Clips Unlimited ,our mission is to make the world a better place, one dick at at time.
