A UK mother has described her horror at seeing a dad of three daughters strip naked in the men's changing room of a public swimming pool, much to the confusion of the internet. Taking to parenting forum Mumsnet, the anonymous woman wrote that she had arrived early with her two-year-old son to his swimming lesson, so decided to wait in the changing room. She explained that she uses the men's changing room as the women's is "usually crowded" as there are "less dads at lessons". The woman said that there was a dad in there getting his daughters dressed after swimming when she and her son entered. But then the father got dressed after his children, which led to what she labelled the "bizarre" incident. He is also by the door, so if another parent was coming in their child would have walked into his penis!
P.S. I Love You
Help support our writers and keep our site ad-free. You should not have to hide yourself away in a sticky bathroom stall in order to change into your yoga pants. Today, things change. Today, you are going to let your nips fly. Look at the woman over there—her only clothing item a lacy black thong, standing with one bronzed leg up on a bench, leaning over and rubbing lotion onto her skin while chatting in Spanish with her friend, who is also only wearing panties.
More from Body
As well as making you feel empowered, it also has the ability to reduce your self-confidence to the size of a dwarfed raisin. When I came back out in my gym kit, I got a mouthful from one of the middle-aged women in the changing room who said that it was outrageous that I was ashamed of my body as I was so much younger than the other people in the room. But for some reason, the locker room just turned me into a wilting lettuce of self-doubt.
Love them or hate them, communal changing rooms have made a bold return at the newest fitness clubs. Charlotte Sinclair reveals all in this piece first published in Vogue 's May issue. The naked female body. It's rather a shock to encounter it in the middle of your afternoon. One moment you're walking off the street into the gym, head full of thoughts of work and life, then bam! There it is, an exclamation point of flesh, as subtle as a brick to the head. There's no getting around it. Literally, in my case. In the smart communal changing rooms at one of London's chicest boutique fitness outfits, I step purposefully eyes forward, humming to affect insouciance past a woman wrapping her hair in a towel. She is quite, quite naked, and though I really am trying not to, I can't help but notice her full luxuriant, you might even say Seventies bush.