Another Tale of Horror from the Locker Room

I thought experiencing the gaggle of naked old men converging in the locker room was bad. But what I witnessed today tops that by a magnitude of over 9000.

"What, 9000?!"

I had just finished up my work out. It was chest day, so I was feeling extra manly. There were just a few people in the locker room when I entered; the benefits of hitting the gym at 11 in the morning is that there are relatively few people. Most gym goers arrive early in the morning or around 6 in the afternoon ( because they actually have stable, decent 9-5 jobs, I'd wager), so during that period of the day there are no crowds. No rushing to and fro, frantically seeking a bench. No standing in queue around the squat rack, watching some jackass do barbell curls (seriously, those guys SUCK). Just open spaces and and lots of free oxygen. It was beautiful.

I was in the process of getting changed when a guy walked in the locker room. This was a BIG man; he had to be close to 300 pounds, and not much of it was muscle. He was soaking wet, covered head to toe in sweat. His pudgy skin was beet red, and his face was puffed out like a puffer fish.

DISCLAIMER: Now, before I go on, I want to say that I'm not making fun of him or mocking him for his weight; I *will* be insulting him, but not for those reasons. I can respect someone trying to change they're lives for the better. He clearly needs to shed excess mass, and I admire his efforts in the gym.

So, the morbidly obese gentleman lumbered into the locker room, soaked in sweat. He arduously began to peel off his shoes and socks at a painfully slow pace; exhaustion may have had something to do with it, or the fact that he was wearing wet socks. Off came his shirt, and then his shorts. Then his underwear.

There he was, standing naked in the locker room; I can only thank God for small blessings. And large blessing, as the case may be, because his belly distended down past his junk, obscuring any brain-stabbing imagery. Or so I thought.

This man proceeded to take his saturated underwear and WRING OUT THE SWEAT ONTO THE LOCKER ROOM FLOOR. And then he put them back on.

I, along with the few others unfortunate enough to witness this atrocity, could only stare in absolute horror and disgust as he did this. The man then proceeded to open his locker, squeeze into his dry clothes (over his nasty, still moist blubber, mind you) and then exit the locker room with as much grace as he entered. He didn't even bother to dry himself off.

Oh, and the puddle of man-blob sweat was left on the floor.