I watched the strangest ritual at the gym this morning. After working out, a youngish, attractive woman showered and then donned a dressing gown and slippers. (Most people just wrap a towel around themselves while they dry their hair and get ready, so the dressing gown thing threw me.) Then, she whipped a clean white towel out of her locker and spread it on the counter in front of the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles so that it aligned perfectly with the edge. Out came a plastic caddy filled with hair and skin products, which she proceeded to line up in two straight rows on the towel. Her makeup bag came next - opened so that it aligned perfectly with the towel's edge. And she went through this whole process so smoothly, so completely without any hint of self-consciousness. All the while I rummaged for hair gel and eyeliner floating loose in the corners of my grungy gym bag.
I'll admit, I smirked. It was a reflex and I don't think she saw me. But she surely noticed me staring because I'm never subtle when I stare. And then I reconsidered. You know, if that's what it takes for her to start the day off right, well good for her. If she has to have all of her hair and makeup just-so in order to get out of bed and hit the gym, who am I to judge? Because really, what's the difference between that and me rushing off to get a local cell phone number the day I arrive in a new town? Or staying up late to hang pictures on the wall and tuck the corners of my bedsheets in properly before I can sleep in a new apartment? Nothing really, except that gym lady ends up looking better than me. Maybe she and I are both a little OCD. Or maybe we just know what it takes for us to feel at home.
I think I'm gonna take my slippers to the gym tomorrow morning too.
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