Changing at the gym takes me back to high school. Everyone (for the most part) is all business – facing their locker, peeling off their gear as quickly as possibly. In and out. But there’s always the odd one though, isn’t there? The woman that is exceptionally comfortable naked, and is all too happy to strike up a conversation about the weather. Heaven forbid she’s a close talker, too.

There’s one chatty nudie at my gym (whatever you’re picturing, stop. It’s not pretty). She walks back and forth from locker to sink, all in the buck, bottle necking this narrow area between the two spaces like a minivan merging on the DVP. We’re always on the same schedule and I regularly find myself stuck in one area, eager to get the other but don’t to get in too close proximity. Doesn’t the standard three feet of personal space triple when naked? Shouldn’t it?

I’ve now taken a stand. I won’t disrobe until she’s done her weird naked chatty laps between lockers and sinks. I chat with her (eyes averted), but hold onto my stuff with nary a boot unzipped until she’s done her thing. I’ve been passively just gesturing towards the space in an “after you” motion, but it might not be working. I’ll keep you apprised.