Little Moby Homemaker: Domestic God

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Holy Balls! It's A Swimming Lesson

Moby Homemaker

I am an out of work "At Home Dad" who has risen from the ashes like an overweight, over worked, under paid phoenix to become a "Domestic God"

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Today, I share another essential bit of wisdom for all you Domestic Gods at home.  It is one which I was slapped in the face with (nearly more than just metaphorically) this afternoon.  Guys, if you take your kids to the gym (or the YMCA, in my case), ALWAYS utilize the "Family Locker Room".  I will explain how I came to this epiphany.

Trust me, I wasn't going to the Y to workout.  I hate that shit--and it shows!  Instead, I made the trip to take my two sons, who we'll call "Colton" (age 8) and "Little Rusty" (age 5), to their weekly swimming lessons.  Incidentally, I have not been in a public pool for nearly 20 years.  That's right, two decades!  I'm proud of this.  I don't avoid public pools because I can't swim or anything like that.  I avoid them because I view them as huge in-ground germ basins!  I know, I have issues.  And of course, my bizarre phobia doesn't stop me from throwing my spawn into the local version of "Swimming with the Bacterias".

Anyway, today I learned that I have another rare and peculiar phobia. This new one is that of Locker Rooms.

When we arrived at the Y for the boys' swim lessons, my sons indicated that we needed to drop their stuff in a locker, get their trunks on and shower off before the lessons were to commence.  Never being a big fan of the YMCA (the place or the song), and not knowing my way around--I asked where the Men's Locker Room was located.  Folks, I cannot over emphasize to you what a grave mistake I had unwittingly made.  My sons and I then turned the next corner to find a large wooden door with a black and white sign on it which read "Men's Locker Room".  I opened the door and ushered in my two young sons.

Holy Balls! I had led my boys into what looked like a scene from  "Old Guy Caligula".  There were dozens of really old dudes parading around naked as shit!  It was surreal-all this gray hair and old balls flopping around.  It was like a car wreck--fuck that--it was NOTHING like a car wreck!  I wanted nothing to do with this scene!  And, h-oh-lee shit, my little boys were witnessing this furry abomination along with me!  My Lord, the humanity! What had I done???

Poor Little Rusty was right at ball level.  I am sure he will never lose the image of one wet, naked sixty year old after another parading before his boyish eyes.  Young Colton saw more ancient ass than the seats at the local bingo hall.  What is it with these old fuckers?  I know it's a "locker room"--but Christ, can you please attempt to cover yourself in the main traffic areas?  Seriously, if there were beads, floats and disco music, I would have honestly believed that I had mistakenly attended the gay pride parade at Del Webb's Sun City.  It is perfectly acceptable, and encouraged, to take those towels off of your shoulders and wrap them around you!  I guess I am just too young to understand the true "freedom" of the men's locker room.  Perhaps in 25 years or so, I, too, will indulge in conversations with my senior counterparts naked after a hot shower, with one leg arched on a sink as I dry.  Seriously, this was the shit my poor little boys and I had walked into.

I whisked the boys away from "Pre-Historic Shrimp Nite At The Y", as I affectionately called it; and went to the front desk.  There I was advised that there was a "Family Locker Room" which required a special key.  It took a few minutes to go through the proper protocol; but shortly thereafter my sons and I were awarded keys to this special dressing area.  When we arrived, we found individual rooms for each family to use with maximum privacy.  There was not a set of creepy old gonads in sight.  Rusty and Colton, although possibly irreparably traumatized, got themselves together and made their way to another successful session of swimming lessons.

After the lessons' completion we got our stuff together in the Family Locker Room and headed out.  As we made our way to the front desk to drop off the keys; I hoped in my head that my boys were not forever scarred by my wrong Locker Room turn.  I rationalized that no real harm had been done-they'll simply forget about it.

As I held open the exit door for my sons and an older gentleman; Rusty pointed to the man and exclaimed, "That old man's nuts is silver!!!".  It's called a "Family Locker Room"Domestic Gods.  Use it.



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1 Comment

Daisy said:

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HA HA HA! Oh golly! What an ordeal! Sounds like the old guys have lost all sense of modesty and decorum. You'd think they would have made at least some attempt at covering themselves in the main areas of the locker room and with kids about. YIKES! Rusty's observation was hilarious! Kids are pretty resilient about such things. I'm sure they'll get past it.

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