A space of freedom where women go naked, no one looks at you badly and no one is ashamed of anything.
How I love going to the gym, my gym. And how I love the naturalness of the women's locker room. The bodies there are just like that. Without labels or adjectives. We women undress and go naked to the showers and put on cream everywhere and dry our bandages with a hairdryer to avoid getting yeast infections and urinary tract infections. And no one gives you dirty looks. And no one is embarrassed about anything. It's a utilitarian space where you make friends (or not). Where if you leave your shampoo, someone will lend you, and not just the shampoo, whatever you need.
This space, with bodies of all ages walking around naked or half-dressed with no problem other than drying their toes to avoid fungus, excites me. It's an oasis from the overwhelming aesthetic pressure. And I know this happens at my gym, but not at others, where everyone looks good and is more interested in posturing. But that's the advantage of going to a gym with a sense of community, and that doesn't mean it's worse (or even better). A few days ago, for example, a few of us ended up singing the last song we'd danced to in Juanda's classes (#Juandatequeremos) in the showers and chatting. And all of it, naked. And it's that natural, open nakedness that I love. The sense of not worrying about whether we have more or less fat. Or of not worrying there, despite the stares of other women, perhaps because a code of neutral and relaxed gaze has been established where it's still time for me to hear some comment about blackbirds, sagging skin, double chins, cellulite, or any other supposed bodily disgrace.
And I'm no idiot; I know there are women in the locker room who care about their bodies. A lot. And who don't handle it well. But in the common moments of sharing, they forget about it, if only for a little while. But, of all of them, the ones who have stolen my heart are the oldest. Marina Sáez has dedicated the comic to them. Aguagua (Ventanas publishing house), inspired by the older women who go to our gym. I glance at them and try to identify one of the protagonists. And I imagine myself in a few years, doing like them, going to the gym with a small carry-on bag, which is more practical so I don't have to carry it around, and stripping, changing, and drying everything off with the same joy I have now, with the same joy they have.
Naturally, I have no idea what goes on in the men's locker room and if that camaraderie and naturalness exists. I'm dying of curiosity, but I won't jump in, of course. I suspect it will be a middle ground, but I don't want to speculate. I prefer to stick with what I experience in "our" locker room. An experience that is far removed from the view we experience outside, where we are judged for being one way or another. And I only hope that this silent and beautiful pact that is lived and breathed in the women's locker room lasts forever. And I sincerely hope that this is the case in our gym and all the others. But if it isn't for you, start implementing it yourself. I assure you, it's well worth it.
