Mid September I began taking water aerobics classes, and these are not the kind of classes you see all the little ol’ blue hairs talking in order to catch up on the latest gossip. These are real cardio workouts; though after the first class I was a little worried it wasn’t going to be the right speed for me. That was just the new season warm-up. I may actually be in a little over my head. 
I’ve been taking Sophia to swim lessons consistently since she was about ten months and I’ve gotten used to the whole changing-clothes-with-a-toddler locker-room routine. In those locker-room moments everyone is chatting and it’s accepted that everyone is looking around while changing, mostly because we’re simultaneously corralling children while putting are bras and panties back on. Locker-room time after my aerobics class is completely different.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in a locker-room without a child. I guess I’ve forgotten the unspoken rules. When I dress at home I tend to look straight ahead because I’ve been dressing myself for a while now and I don’t really need to look at my legs going into my pants. That gets me some odd looks in a locker-room, even if my eyes are glossed over with a 30-yard stare and were fixated on a coat hooks beside someone. Whatever, I can adapt.
Not that I’ve ever been in a men’s bathroom but I get the feeling that the appropriate behavior for women dressing in a locker-room is similar to men at a urinal. Look at the floor. Look at the floor. Look at the floor. It’s a little silly considering after seeing them in a swimsuit the only secrets left are, how tight do they shave that bikini line and how big are their areolae. Neither are burning questions to me of anyone in my class. Really.
After my third class I was dressing in the appropriately coy manner with my towel wrapped around me. My chin was down to hold the towel up, which forces me to look at the lovely floor. Wouldn’t it be funny if the floor was a mirror? No? Posters on the floor would be nice. General reading material, I would even accept advertisements.
Anyway I overheard a conversation by three women in my class. It was a mother, her teenage or early twenty-something daughter, and aunt. I didn’t know they were related prior to the conversation but to facilitate my storytelling I’m letting you know ahead of time. Oh and I’ve changed the names not to protect anyone, but because I forgot them.
Girl to her mother: Aunt Faye says I should go to the doctor.
Mother: What for?
Girl: For the bumps with the bumps around it.
Mother: I told you to see a doctor about that a long time ago. Maybe you’ll listen to your aunt.
I’m not a nurse or a doctor, but for a place and time in which no one is supposed to look up at each other doesn’t this sound like it could be potentially embarrassing? Just for your information, none of this was whispered. It was said in normal speaking voices about three feet from me in a large echo-y locker-room, and I wasn’t hiding in a locker nor was I the only other person in the room.
The girl walked around a bank of lockers towards the exit but was still in the same room and if I looked up would probably be in my line of sight. I could hear talking but wasn’t paying attention to the words, then out of no where…
Mother loudly to the aunt: Are you telling her to use that wart remover?
Seriously, I don’t know how I didn’t just burst into laughter right there. I finished dressing and got all my stuff together to leave. Moving forward towards the door I put the straps of my bag on my shoulder and fished in my pocket for my keys. I looked up to scope out the exit route and passed right by the girl. Her left arm was raised and her right hand was lifting her left boob for her aunt to look underneath and both of them looked at me as if they just realized all this took place in public. Idiots.
I’m guessing the girl was titty-fucked and got an STD. What do you think?
While watching a commercial about erectile dysfunction weeks ago, Kurt took the time to work with Sophia’s existing vocabulary.
Kurt: Do you have erectile dysfunction?
Sophia: No
Kurt: Do you have prostate cancer?
Sophia: No
Kurt: Do you even have a prostate?
Sophia: No
Kurt to me: She’s already ahead of the other toddlers, she even knows Biology.
War of the Worlds unfolded in living rooms around the country. In Concrete Washington, right as the Martians invaded with flashes of light and poison gases, all the radios died. Panic ensued. Some fainted and others fled to guard their moonshine stills. One man even stole gas to see his priest for a last-minute absolution.
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.
Velvet Ridge is dangerously close to Arkansas’ Bald Knob and from there it’s almost a straight shot to Cumming Iowa. However, Spread Eagle Wisconsin is a touch closer to Cumming and is a scenic trip just off old highway 69. 69 also leads to Felch, Michigan, though it’s usually a backdoor approach. I’d rather Ralph.
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.
She placed each on the step above, took the next step, and then picked up each item. Always setting down and picking them up in the same order. This is how she carried her coveted sippy-cup, ‘friend’, and cell phone upstairs. Good thing it wasn’t a full flight of stairs. This could take all day!
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.
It pains me to have information that points in a sinister direction yet would have no affect if reported. I suppose that is what gives us all our privacy. I hope for the sake of possible victims and their families that this person proves me wrong. I hope already tapped potential is never fully achieved.
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.
I couldn’t take it. It was the last straw. I went to bed early in order to have quiet time to myself in the morning but my tyrant toddler boss woke first. I’ve had it. I’m done with this job! I can’t take it anymore! Yet I want more, two more. I must be insane!
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.
The heat came back. Sleeping attire was tossed aside at least for this night. Fans turned on, a necessity for slumber.
In the morning I opened her door. I looked upon her still half-asleep on her tummy. Sophia took her diaper off sometime during the night and slept in the buff…to wake on wet sheets.
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.
In trying to help a friend with her problem I boldly asked, “Has he ever considered sperm donation?”
“He would if he could. He’s had a vasectomy.”
“They can reverse those you know. If he donated sperm it would help his political career…When asked how much he donates to charitable causes he can say, ‘billions’.”
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.
My Grandpa took his whole top row of teeth out to brush. They looked real. “How do you do that?” My four-year-old self asked him.
“Oh don’t worry,” he said, “you’ll be able to do it soon.” Thinking he meant it was something that required practice, I kept tugging at my teeth. He just laughed.
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.
