The Elephant in the Locker Room

When I was nine, I couldn't wait to be ten so I could cross the street without holding my older sister's hand. At ten, I longed for twelve, the age when Mom bought her daughters their first bra whether they needed it or not (I didn't). By the time I reached twelve, I wanted to fast-forward to fourteen, the age my dad would let me drive our Volkswagen Bus to church on Sundays while he crammed for his sermon. I'd no sooner backed out of the driveway when I started wishing for sixteen, so I could date boys.

The years that followed are a bit of a blur now, but somewhere around thirty, the desire to apply the brakes on time edged in, much like that first gray hair or crease at the corner of one's eyes. Like many other women my age,I joined the gym, in an effort to stay trim after having given birth to three children. I knew I couldn't slow down the aging process any more than I could speed it up as a child, but perhaps I could add a stroke or two of grace to time's hand. Besides, when you live where the winters are as long and cold as they are in Michigan, working out was a way to keep warm while keeping the winter fat at bay.

It was a typically gray, January morning in my West Michigan town when I finished a circuit training class I'd signed up for to keep the blood from freezing in my veins. I headed for the locker room where groups of women stood around in various stages of undress. As I rounded the second row of lockers, I caught sight of what looked like a tissue on the floor in front of the benches. The closer I got, the more apparent it became that it wasn't a Kleenex; but a tampon. An obviously used tampon, and it was right next to my locker.

I looked around the room to see if anyone else had noticed but everyone seemed to be very busy chatting, blow-drying, or putting on make-up before heading back tout in the cold. I surreptitiously padded over to my locker, removed my clean clothes, and sat down at the far end of the bench lest anyone think the bloody cotton was mine. As I untied my sneakers, the collective sense of shame and embarrassment was palpable.

And that's when our heroine, okay my heroine, rounded the corner. A stout woman with sculpted calves and wearing a baggy tee shirt over shorts rather than designer jog-bra and spandex; she marched into the locker room and immediately spied the object of our shame. She looked at it, then at all of us, before grabbing a paper towel from the wall dispenser and scooping the thing up and tossing it in the trash..

"For crying out loud, we all know what it is and where it came from, why are you all pretending it doesn't exist?"

Nobody said a word, just stared at the floor or at each other, awkwardly, until the woman shook her head and yanked open her locker, mumbling. She pulled off her sweaty clothes and walked buck naked--all 175 or so muscled pounds of her--to the showers. The other women eventually recovered and went back to their gossip or talking about their children or pot roast recipes, but I was stricken with a sudden realization that I no longer yearned to reach a certain age, but to arrive at a point in life when I could master that kind of honesty and lack of concern for what others might think of me. To act with courage instead of self-monitoring. To call attention to the elephants in our world with grace and conviction.

Nearly two decades later, I rounded the corner near my home and spotted a young man hitting his dog because it wouldn't pull him on his skateboard. Before I had time to think about the risk, I turned my car around and rolled down the window.

"You put another hand on that poor dog and I'm calling animal services! It's a pet, not your slave!"

The kid looked at me and shrugged. "Whatever," he said, before jumping on his board and pushing off. The little dog ran along at his side, forgiveness a foregone conclusion. It never occurred to me to consider what the kid or the neighbors might think of me for yelling out my window as I followed that bloody tampon for several blocks before turning off toward home.

Comments

[Jim Brodhead]

Just wait until that first digit in the age changes to a six. Talk about a paradigm shift? Been there and done that and fun it is not.

[Fran aka Redondowriter]

Or a 7. That was a big one. I love this post El; open, honest and very interesting where women were back then and where they are now. As for the boy and his dog, I'm proud of you for your cojones. The boy obviously didn't have any yet. What's the female equivalent? Yoni?

[RunninL8]

Hi there from Alaska! I'm a sister in bodywork and I've been anxiously waiting for you to post again! I'm absolutely in love with your writing and so look forward to reading more.
And what a fabulous post! In my late 30's, I am feeling the need to slow the clock! The lines, the sags, the greys....but at the same time I do feel that I'm closer to the land of Outing the Elephants and it gives me such strength! As my 12 year old enters adolescense I only wish I could impart that type of bravery in her, to leap-frog her past all that "self-monitoring" to where I am....and past.
I also want her to just stay my little girl forever!
~sigh~
Glad to "meet" you and take care!

[RunninL8]

Oh, yes! And YAY YOU for confronting that kid!!!!

[Kate Johnson]

Woo hoo, she's baa-aack! and with a vengeance!
Great story. And how true it is that what we really need to do in this life is learn not to care what other people think, but just to do what feels right.
AND not care what the mirror shows us. That is a big one, I find, at age 49. Or at least, learn to accept and love the way we look at every age. I'm working on that one. After all, it's not how we look that is important, yet it seems to go hand-in-hand with an acceptance of our whole selves. I find it a bit of a struggle sometimes. It's not easy to love my saggy eyelids or cracked-mud crowsfeet, to say farewell to my youthful "beauty."

[veglandia]

Hey great to have you back writing here again. Missed your blog. I too had one of those cathartic moments when the honesty just came out of me. I'm not sure that the ability to have it work for me all the time is there - but apparently I do have it in me at times.

[Tyounger]

I really enjoyed reading this, loved your writing style, but most of all, I loved the message. I am 37 and I have experienced very similar feelings.

[ellie]

Thanks for all your comments, folks. I've not been in writing mode for a while due to personal and professional demands on my time and energy. I sincerely appreciate those of you who have checked in.

[Sue Richards]

Happy day sweet ellie.

Love
Love
Love

[Bev Jacobs]

Grace under fire...sort of. I loved this story. Thanks for sharing.
Bev

[Runnin L8]

Hey there! Just wanted to let you know that I have given you an “award” on my blog! It’s the Arte y Pico award, based on the artistic and valuable content of a blog. I picked you and 4 others because your blog has touched/helped me personally in many ways and I would like to share it with others.
You are in no way obligated to pass on the award, link back, and such. This is just a tiny way of saying, “Thank You for sharing your blog and know that I am very grateful!!!”
cheers and blessings!

[Mental Mist]

That was touching... Good for you!

[Wendy]

Good for you for giving that kid "what for"! It's great to be a voice for the voiceless. I bet that dog really appreciates you.

[Body massage]

love this story, thanks for sharing. and visit my site as you walk

[Liras]

Wow. What a great story.

I think the courageous woman was one of the few that has been comfortable in her body, no matter what society has told her, since she matured into womanhood. Or something happened that reminded her that a healthy strong body is the most beautiful kind.

If you ever see her again, please smile twice as brightly at her, for my sake. :)

[Kimberly]

Wow. I didn't realize it had been a whole year since you posted... I've come back every now and then to check, but time just crept by at a lightning pace.

Hope you're doing well.

[Luke]

Hey there! Happened to come upon your blog by chance, and I have to say it is infinitely entertaining and heartwarming. Anyways, glad i found your place, I'll keep coming back!

If you want to check out my blog it's
http://doesnthurtyet.blogspot.com

have a good day!

[Koktel]

I will bookmark your blog and take the feeds also!

[Allie]

That last line just killed me. Hahahah.

[Niki]

Hi there Ellie. I'm Niki, who used to go by the alias Missuh Golightly on my blog.

Anyways, I wanted to let you know that I've started blogging on a new site again & it is:
nikiconrad.wordpress.com

Hope to hear from you!