I always end up in the gym dressing room at the same time that the 60+ crowd is getting out of their water aerobics class. I  discretely slip into my clothes, slap on a little makeup, and pull my hair into a messy bun in record fashion because I know the littlest is "done" with the sub-par childcare I subject her to thrice a week. But even in my rush, I can't help but notice the women I am sharing the locker room with. They are always naked. Either lotioning themselves or struggling with an unwieldy bra or just shooting the breeze about so-and-so's husband's mild stroke. But always naked. And it strikes me how comfortable they are. There bodies look nothing like the ones that glossed the cover of the fitness magazines that I unsuccessfully tried to avert my eyes from on my way past the lobby. No - there is not an ab muscle in sight with this crowd. These bodies are always soft and full, I could trace each one of their veins that stand stark against their papery skin, and there are wrinkles, scars, sags, and sunspots. Their bodies scream "I have lived." and I find beauty in all the imperfections and I find beauty in their confidence. I am in awe that being naked in front of others (and themselves) does not stir up all the insecurities that has me always reaching from behind the shower curtain for the towel. 

This morning as I was thinking about this as I mopped my floor. I wondered if I will someday shed enough inhibitions to proudly gallivant through the locker room in my "I have lived" body. My moment of reverie was disrupted by Fielding and Perry's raucous laughter as they watched Luna riding on our hobby horse... buck naked. 

I guess we come into this world with no shame and we leave it with no shame.