1. A little old Asian lady showering naked in the group shower and singing opera while soaping up because, let's face it, the acoustics in the shower are sublime
then come to my gym. I've got her.
And I'm so jealous of her.
I want to be her. Not the whole "little old Asian lady" part because it's impossible. You know, genetics. Not even the "showering naked in the group shower" part because I'm a BAM* who already does this.
*this may be a bit overstated. I might shower naked in the group showers because on the first day of swim class everyone else was doing it and I couldn't figure out a way not to disrobe without being the weird "dressed while everyone else is naked girl".
It's the "singing opera while soaping up" part that gets me. As a former music major, I sing opera frequently at home. I sing it in my car. I sing it to my husband whenever I want to stealthily pick a fight. My four year old even acts out a character she calls "Opera Mom." But I do not have the balls to sing opera in public while naked.
But the little old Asian lady has 'em. (Figuratively, I mean. It is the women's locker room.)
Singing opera in a place reserved for downward cast eyes and private toweling off is a bold move. It says, "I don't care. Look at me. I look nothing like a super model and I'm totally okay with being naked and having you look at me. I'm all about having fun and enjoying the moment when I want to. In fact, if the floor wasn't a bit slippery I might skip to my locker. Because I'm that carefree."
I want that.
So today I'm going to discover my inner Naked Opera Star.
(This next part is best read while having Bon Jovi's It's My Life stuck in your head.)
I'll start by owning it when I forget I'm riding a stationary bike at the gym and air drum the heck out of the handlebars. No more staring intensely at the odometer in shame, hoping no one caught me out of the corner of their eye. I will meet the gaze of College Muscle Man in the mirror and even invite him to play air guitar. Because I'm not into Musical Exclusivity.
In a completely clear, super wide grocery aisle? I will get a running start and ride the shopping cart.
When I am alone in my minivan and at a particularly poignant moment in my interview with David Letterman, I will soldier on even at a stop light next to a car filled with people who can see I am talking to myself/Imaginary Dave. Clearly.
Today I will embrace that I sing the talk box parts in Livin' on a Prayer, because honestly, how can you have any kind of soul and not want to imitate that sound? And while we are on the subject of Bon Jovi (you're welcome) I'm going to go ahead and cry while I'm singing because
When I finish my workout and go straight to Burger King to order a Hershey Sundae Pie, I will never pretend to be on the phone when I get to the window and say, "I'm coming honey, they are literally putting it in my hand right now," because I want the teenage BK worker to think that obviously my husband has some dude version of a pregnancy craving, and I, the devoted wife, am lovingly fulfilling it for him. Because of course this Hershey Sundae Pie is not for me.*
*I'm not committing to it that I've actually done this. Definitely not more than once. Twice tops.
NO MORE! If Naked Opera Star wants Hershey Sundae Pie (and has worked out and responsibly fit it into her meal plan) she will eat it without disgrace! (But maybe with some chagrin if she's in her workout clothes. A tinge of chagrin is okay.)
Today I will discover my inner Naked Opera Star. And embrace her, soap and all.