To pie... or not to pie?

Having regularly attended the Y for the last eight months (oh fatness, will you ever go away?), I've decided that there is much to be learned -- on a purely sociological basis -- about women's behaviour in the changeroom.

One of the many joys of being female is the struggle when you must strip down or change in a public environment. But the varied modes of response to this public humiliation are indeed interesting.

Some opt for the bathroom option. They will not drop their drawers without a door. They will not drop them without a lock. They will not do it, Sam-I-Am.

Others opt from the lessons of earlier years, implementing the Catholic Schoolgirl Wriggle. (Mode in which women keep the top layer of clothing on as long as possible, while stripping away panties and bra, while simultaneously adding a new layer. Top layer used as shield from pyring, licentious girl-eyes.) Inappropriately named, I think, as most Catholics schoolgirls I've known are generally far more... er, forward in their modesty. Or lack thereof.

Some note that a woman should be able to strip down in a changeroom -- yet they feel all too vulnerable and exposed to just hurl off their clothing without abandon. In an ideal world, women should be able to strut about as naked as they please. But these women also realize that there are always a couple of cats, who look around with judging, accusing eyes. They back themselves into a corner and try to inconspicuously remove the clothes, hoping that no one is thinking to themselves, "God, when is the last she trimmed that bush? That pie... c'est enorme!"

As for the rest -- well, bless their little hearts, they take it all off with nary a thought (and sometimes with more relish than absolutely necessary). These are the women who stride around, confidently, happily -- regardless of the size of their breasts, thighs, tummy, ass or cellulite. From shower to sauna to locker room, they wear nothing but flipflops and a look of serenity.

But one of my chums views this as nothing more than an affront to her soul.
"Her pie!" she hisses. "Her pie was only a few feet from my face! Why do they show that? That's nasty!"
When I calmly point out that in a women's locker room, it is far more natural for women to wander about naked (along with the right to not be embarassed by it), my friend looks disgusted.
"They should cover it up. I don't want to see pie! I don't care what kind of pie it is. Put it away!"

Granted, there are times when I've seen more than I would otherwise perhaps be comfortable with. Such as a woman lying in the hot sauna, naked on the bench. Her legs are propped up. And her goods are full on display. Or the woman who decided that she needed to stretch, and propped up her legs to pose, stretch, and show off a very ample, untrimmed pie. (And there was no "innocent stretching" about it.)

At which case, I feel it my right to keep my face straight until I'm far enough away to let out a snort of amusement.

But for the time being, I'm left to do the schoolgirl wriggle around my friend, who would panic at the sight of an escaped breast or pubic hair.

It's only polite, I suppose. But one day, I would like to have the courage and comfort to saunter into a sauna, naked as a jaybird (what a weird expression). I figure I'll be about 70 years old at that point, and fully senile.

And with my luck, I'll have mistaken the reception desk or the conditioning room for the sauna.