The Realisation

We have all, at one time or another, found ourselves in a change room trying to conquer the challenging task of change from our civilian clothing into to gym gear without displaying a single inch of our pasty white, slightly mushy skin.

I am pretty proud to admit that I have perfected this process. The trick is to always wear a dress or skirt so you can pull up your bottoms underneath or find yourself a bathroom cubical far enough away from the entrance so people won’t wonder why you were in the toilet for ten minutes. But the real skill is definitely changing ze bra underneath your shirt. It truly is a rare talent.

But, my friends, after 26 years of resembling an alien young trying to escape from its embryonic sack I have come to the realisation that we are all too busy thinking of ourselves (narcissistic fools) that we simply don’t have the time to judge each other.

I imagine the female change room is a bit like to men’s urinals, yes things may be out, taking in the fresh air, but heaven forbid someone dares a glance at the exposed body part. Sure there are people who parade the room like it is a catwalk but I am referring to all those normal self-conscious I-should-not-have-eaten-that-mcflurry-at-lunch-omg-is-that-another-fat-roll? people. You know who you are.
And I have one message for you. It is time. Time to flash a little skin. Embrace what you’ve got and be comfortable when you change, because honestly, at the moment, you look like an utter twat.

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