I've been
letting off some steam.
Literally.
After more than 2 years of having gym membership I have finally figured out where 1) the sauna and
steam room are, and 2) how to use them.
I'm not slow.
Truth be told, I was unable to use the gym for a good 18 months after my surgical mishap, and for the same reason I was stiff and sore after attempting a full day's work. So I decided to soldier on,
and enlist the aid of the kids' boot camp to entertain my offspring while I
stretch out and sweat.
I deposited
my daughter with the personal trainer, parked my son in his wheelchair (his
current form of transportation) and took myself off to the ladies' change room.
Finding a
locker that actually locked was my first challenge, followed by trying to make
the swap from warm comfy clothes to my swimwear of choice (a tankini, as the 'wet
room' is unisex and we don't wanna scare anyone now do we) in the world's
smallest cubicles. Seriously, would it kill 'em to remove one loo and make the
others a little roomier?!
Deal done, I
ventured into the steam room and pushed the button; "I can cope with 20
minutes" I tell myself and stepped inside.
Sliding onto
the white tiles (again, literally) I wait for the onslaught of hot damp air,
which when it kicks in, is every bit as hot and damp as promised. Within minutes
I can't make out my own feet, and am finding it a little hard to breathe. But
I'm loving it.
Seconds after
that I have the distinctly unpleasant sensation of something dripping on my
head. I realise that the condensation on
the ceiling is to blame and quietly freak out at the thought of what else may
have accumulated up there before gravity brings it back to land...on me. I pop my little towel on my head to prevent any further absorption of god knows what, which also makes it hotter on top. All the better to detox with, no?
In the midst
of all this perspiring and pondering I hear the sound of male voices. Can't see
where they're coming from but I am hoping that they opt for the sauna instead.
Even my modest tankini isn't modest enough, and despite the fact that I still
can't see beyond my face in this mist I am not keen to share my space. No one looks their best in the steam room. I am now grateful that even the
LEDs can't shed any light on the subject.
Another 10
minutes of this and I am desperate to a) breathe, b) see, and c) drink water
that hasn't vaporised in the heat. So I carefully make my way to the door, stealthily
slipping and sliding like a madwoman while blindly groping for the exit (again
I'm thankful those guys wisely went with Door #2 or who knows what else I may
have grasped in my haste to escape).
Outside,
after a few delicious deep breaths of cool air, I make my next questionable
decision, to try the Monsoon Shower: 10 powerful jets spraying water so cold
it'd make an Eskimo think twice. I do my own personal version of the 'Hokey
Pokey', and put my left hand in, pull my left hand out, with everything shaking
all about. It's not until the spray slows to a trickle I am physically able to
take the temperature. Then accidentally touch the button that starts the show
all over again.
Belatedly I
scan the room for security cameras, in case footage of my foolishness appears
on someone's YouTube channel.
Relieved
there will be no recordings I make my waterlogged way back to the Women's Room
where I towel off best I can and put my street clothes back on. I make quick
use of the complimentary hairdryers to blow my 'fro back into some semblance of
sense (humidity and my hair do not play nicely together) and check I am not
looking as frazzled as I feel before I go get the kids. Here I realise I am wearing but one earring. Must have come off when I removed my towelling head gear. Am I talented, or what.
After a 45
minute workout my children are appropriately excited and exhausted and allow me to come
home to the comfort of the couch and computer and a cuppa tea.
And quietly contemplate
a better plan of attack for the next time I decide to let off steam.
Jx
©2012
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