TOWELS, or lack thereof




 

TOWELS, OR LACK THEREOF

 

By Laura Toffenetti 

 

I realized I forgot my towel right after I jumped in the pool. If I had realized this a moment before I could have stayed dried and a.) gone home and gotten a towel or b.) skipped the swim and gotten to work dry. Since I didn’t realize the towel situation until I was wet I was stuck. At first I spent a few laps thinking about how to not be wet (it was early, OK? The ol’ grey matter wasn’t at optimum form.). I finally realized how that wasn’t really a fruitful line of thought and proceeded to spend a few laps thinking that if I skipped the shower after the swim…No wait. I’m already wet. The après swim shower stays.  How about if I don’t swim my full thirty minutes…?

 

The rest of the laps were spent puzzling out how to get dry with no towel.  Normally I get into one of the shower/changing cubicles to, well, shower and change. I’m not big on walking around naked.  It is surprising how many women are, thus the nickname, Connudity Center.  Surely, they can’t all be European.

 

This walking around nude is an issue I have with these other women though it’s an issue that I’ve never voiced. I know I’m being a prude but personally I believe public nudity should only be practiced when necessary. The closest I ever came to walking around nude in public was the few times I went nocturnal skinny-dipping and that was when I was young and thin. And there was no moon. And we ran. 

 

I find conversing with so much skin on display a challenge. How does one block out the sags, bags and folds of aging flesh and still listen and respond coherently?

 

“Excuse me, but where did you get your flippers?” asks a vente sized woman who has never experienced Eve’s shame.

 

“Oh! Ha ha! I, uh, what?”

 

Frantic, I duck under the hair dryer and foolishly smile, embracing the privacy of noise. How hard would it have been for her to put on a pair of underpants?  Of use a towel?

 

Ah, yes. Back to my towel-less-ness.  What to do? Grab a bunch of paper towels and bring them into the cubicle? That didn’t seem like an optimal solution, as it would be a very wet person getting those towels. And how many paper towels does it take to dry one average sized body and head of hair anyway? And what if you think ten and it turns out to be fifteen? Does a partially dried nude body running out to get five more paper towels find it any less embarrassing than a soaking wet one?

 

The only thing I had in my bag was an extra pair of cotton underpants (having learned the hard way that underwear is an easy thing to forget to pack.). Might as well shower then use the underpants to get off some of the water.  In this semi-dry state I could pull the dry pair on and, partially clothed,  sneak out, grab some paper towels and stand in front of the hair dryer to finish the job. If I had any luck the locker room would be empty.

 

Well, of course the locker room wasn’t empty.  I showered, and showered, and toyed with the idea of just showering all day and to heck with going to work. Not a realistic solution.  I turned off the water and thought of the Romans.  They scraped themselves clean. They didn’t hassle the water and soap stuff.  Dripping, I grabbed my comb and using the non-toothed side I tried a scrape and discovered that it worked! Gotta love those Romans.  My lack of a slave made my back hard to get at and scraping did nothing about my dripping hair. I tried the wet dog technique. Shake, shake. Scrape, scrape.

 

Enter the underpants. Be prepared to be amazed because here comes the amazing part.

                

I got out the spare pair of underwear

And started to blot from here to there.

I even used it to rub my hair.

I blotted my front and my derrière.

I blotted away without a care.

I blotted my skin, which was very bare.

 

And the amazing part?  The one set of underpants (OK. Let me just say for the record that set of underpants is an odd phrase. But you can’t say underpant, can you? Sounds kind of Big Bad Wolfish. And I have always hated the word ‘panties.’ It has a weird mix of Victoria Secret and six year olds girls at the same time. Makes me uncomfortable. Sorry. Back to the amazing part). That one set of underpants was incredibly absorbent. It was kind of like the Miracle of the Loaves and the Fishes.  Or the Hanukah oil lasting eight nights.  These babies soaked up water like, well like a towel. In fact they were better than a towel; lightweight, fit nicely in the hand, not bulky or heavy when wet and extremely sponge-like. I was amazed, which is why I call this the amazing part.

 

This all leads me to my next epiphany; why not, (are you with me?) why not make towels out of (are you ready for this?) cotton underwear!  I mean the material that cotton underpants are made out of not actual underpants.  I’m pretty sure this Miracle of the Underpants has nothing to do with the particular pair that I used, or the design or as some have suggested, the size. It’s the smooth cotton surface.  All that terry stuff is just another way the style meisters force us into buying expensive Egyptian bath towels.  How many of you have ever spent a lot of money buying new towels only to find out that all they do is spread the water around?  You can’t tell by looking at tags or feeling the pile whether they will do the job they are supposedly designed to do. It’s only after you get them home that you find out once again you’ve been had. But if cotton underpants are so effective just imagine how much drying power a simple T-shirt would have! Why an XL would be enough to dry a whole family!

 

Now before you go digging through the rag-bag for old t-shirts, think.  After all you don’t want worn out tie dyes hanging in your bathroom.  You crave style. Which is why I am coming out with a complete line, Toffenetti T-Shirt Towels, Designer’s Edition.  I’m thinking tassels and some gold threads integrated into earth toned T’s.  Super absorbent, chic, and will fit nicely into any gym bag. Look for them on e-bay. I’ll make a fortune.