Barnie Bares All

     It was an exciting morning for some.  I had forgotten that the tree service guys were due at the house today and while I was getting dressed and completely naked from the waist up, I looked out my bedroom window to notice a man in a tree in my backyard hanging off a rope pruning branches.  I looked at the guy in the tree with shock and dismay.  He looked at me with a look of...just another day on the job.  That's what my breasts got?  Just another day?
     This is unfortunately a pattern.
     Not that I frequently expose myself to men, but I did have an unfortunate experience many years ago that sort of mimics this one.
     I was about 25, living on Union Park in the South End of Boston, and was poor and had no business joining the expensive gym nearby, but I did so anyway.  So I felt ambivalent whenever I went to the gym and even more uncomfortable when I ventured into the ladies locker room.  My discomfort with that area had to do with the culture of the locker room, which called for everyone to mill around naked.  The room was quite large -- there was a whirlpool in the middle and showers were located in the back -- and women wandered around nude from locker to shower (a long walk) and in and out of the whirlpool.  While no one seemed to have an issue with nudity, I continually clung to my postage stamp size towel, which was so small, it barely concealed my nice, in-shape, 25-year-old self.
      What was my problem with being naked in front of other women at a gym?  Why was I such a prude?
      One day, I walked into the locker room and was surprised to find myself alone there.  I realized that now was a good time to work on this problem and practice being naked .  I took off my clothes and carried my towel at my side on my way to the shower area.  I didn't just walk, I strutted at a strong pace, with good posture and head held high.  I felt confident, happy and issue-free.
      Until I hit the shower area....
      Where I found a man bending over a drain in the middle of the floor in the process of repairing some problem.  He looked up at me, studied my nakedness for a moment and said,
      "I'll be done here in a minute."
       He was lacking in expression or emotion.  Then, he went back to working on the drain.
       I sprinted faster than Carl Lewis at the Olympics, to my clothes.
       Once I got over my anxiety, I considered the most shocking aspect of the incident:  That's all my naked body got?  "I'll be done here in a minute?"
       Life can be so cruel.