BREAST STORIES
Come to Berlin and Swim Naked With Me
Repurposing the hot tub ball machine
Calling all breasts! Calling all breasts!
They are now swimming topless in Berlin lap pools. I’m not talkin’ about sexy European nude beaches either. I’m talkin’ about 50 meters, lane ropes, and Speedos.
Let’s all fly to Belin together on my jet plane and swim laps. Swish.
On the flip side, I will do everything in my power to fight against topless lap swimming in my neck of the woods. We are not maturely equipped. I hope we never have topless lap swimming in the Midwest. We can’t handle the topless.
My local YMCA had a hot tub, pre-COVID. They filled it in when we weren’t sure how people caught the plague. It did, however, clue me into how well some midwestern men would handle seeing boobs in our 25 yard lap pool.
Previous to the pandemic, the hot tub felt dirty and potentially STDful but during the pandem’, the hot tub emulated a thriving Petri dish chock full of pervs.
I nicknamed it the ball steamer because it was always filled with men. The ball steamer, not surprisingly, was one of my least favorite places to walk past. Here’s why —
- One regular with bifocals (magnifying glasses). He was a cartoon man with popping-out “boing” eyes, who locked onto women like he would die if he looked away.
- Men who commented on women’s bodies as we walked by — it was never “There’s a body.” It was “Baby, you are fo-ine” or “Grunt sound” or “Why don’t you join us, sexy?”
I don’t miss that
We, midwesterners, can’t handle a topless lap swim pool. We wear too many clothes the rest of the year. When we remove them, all hell breaks loose. Howling dogs.
If I want to swim laps topless, I will go to Germany — unless I want to sneak into the YMCA when it’s closed. But then again, someone is always there and I don’t get to pick who that someone is. I can’t say Oprah or nobody.
My grandpa had a pool on the 40th floor of his building. One night, in high school, my girlfriends and I went up there for a late-night swim. No one was around so we decided to go topless.
We were leaping off the sides of the pool, cannonballing, doing flips, swimming underwater, doing laps, and feeling free.
When we left later that night, the doorman was grinning at us. I looked over to say goodnight and noticed the security video screens. One of them was pointed at the swimming pool we’d just been nakedly leaping for over an hour.
On one hand, we were horrified. On the other hand, we knew it probably made the guy's night and we’d never looked better. I wish I still had keys to that pool. The less material I wear swimming, the happier I am.
When they filled in the hot tub ball machine during COVID, I felt the echo of the oglers. I wondered if that filled hole was haunted with testosterone.
Maybe I’ll write a movie about it.
One of those old 80s slasher films where the naked people get picked off first cause they’re too sexually promiscuous. Or maybe I’ll write a haunted Hot Tub Time Machine, where the naked women send the hot tub oglers back into the stone age to fend for themselves.
