A Prayer From the Ladies Locker Room

As I stand here at 7:15 a.m., staring back at myself in the mirror of the unforgiving and harshly lit "Ladies Locker Room," listening to various conversations of those around me, I can't help but pray.

God, please don’t let me grow bitter as I age. Must I get to the point where I complain publicly? About everything? 

Lord, it isn’t that I am unaware of the “excess chlorine from the sauna that is burning my eyes” during my shower, the "unbearable heat index" of the shower room, or the need for additional showers that "would cut down on my wait time," but it doesn’t stop there. Is it necessary to have a debate over whether the sauna should exist at all?  "Everyone agrees that the whirlpool must go.” Well, at least the three ladies in the conversation at this particular moment agree, so it must be unanimous.

Would it be too much to ask to actually hear The Today Show over the seemingly endless remarks regarding the new regulations that require larger restrooms for handicap accessibility which are “big enough to park my bus in”?  

If I live long enough that even the mention of the spin class music enrages me, may the stress of it not show all over my face, causing me to complain about the makeup industry's inability to create a decent foundation.

Speaking of my face, God, let me not forget that it is the only thing that should be staring back at me in the reflection of the multiple, strategically-placed mirrors located throughout the locker room. Mirrors that, much like a carnival "fun house," distort, magnify, and reflect images that serve only to confuse those unfortunate enough to have wandered in.

May I always keep my towel wrap, with the smartly placed Velcro, closed tightly.  If there is ever permanent body art added to the general area located below my chest and above my knees, might I remember that no one paid to see that art show and that the term “art” is always subjective.  

Lord, help me to remember the “No Nudity” sign posted in its prime location and forsake all thoughts that would result in my need to stand naked in front of the fan to dry, put on my bra while standing next to some poor soul trying to apply makeup in the same mirror, or squat for any reason. 

Please forgive me lest I forget and accidentally show my upper thigh while bending over to pick up a dropped makeup brush and, for the sake of all others, wipe the image from their brains so that they may continue their day without thinking about “that lady in the locker room.” 

And Lord, if I do slip into any one of these discrepancies, I ask that you withhold judgment against those who secretly delight in the diseases that I will indeed contract from the carpet, counters, and the bench I insist on sitting upon bare-bottomed. 

And when any man, upon hearing this prayer, envisions the young, fit, nineteen-year-olds who commit the aforementioned offenses, might their minds' eyes show them the realities of saggy, floppy, aging, fading, sweating, wrinkly skin that I am exposed to each and every morning in the ladies locker room.

Above all, thank you for the motivation to get out of bed, at what I think You would even agree is an unholy hour, to pursue even the most minimal levels of physical fitness, the full capability of my body, the ability to use all restrooms without the need to rely on handicap accessibility, the joy of a hot shower after a long workout, and the encouragement I get from the women of the ladies locker room.  Who, despite their endless negativity and nude pride parades, always make a point to ask how I am doing, acknowledge gaps in my presence, compliment my wardrobe choices, and inspire my continued activity. 

And when I feel the need to bring such a long list of matters to You, as I did this morning, know that I am always thankful for Your silent reminder that it is I who is the complainer.  

Amen.