Gästbloggare: Solli

Min flickvän flyttade hit från Buenos Aires i augusti förra året. Här skriver hon om sitt brutala möte med den svenska ogenerade nakenheten.

My gym is the greatest. Upon arrival you get a key to a locker, your training clothes and bathrobe and slippers! That is only the start. Then the “gym” offers soulful classes (dancing to afro music – haven’t tried that yet, yoga, bla bla) and regular gym classes (nothing regular if they are called Body Pump and Aerobics Bas). You have rooms with lots of machines for silhouetting your body and making it super firm, rooms with aroma therapy, rooms for tanning, center room with a pool, rooms for every kind of spa treatment imaginable … and then there is THE room.

THE “room”, is as fantastic as the rest of the gym – if it weren’t for the level of nudity. Here I find myself standing with a lot of naked women. Please erase the smirk on your face imagining slender females under 30. Nakedness at the age of 70 should not be allowed. Period. Why at my tender age of 33 do I have to learn the disgrace of gravity, untrimmed and colorless bushes and wobbly parts? No respect to the illusion that going to the gym will eventually save us all from that disgrace. None.

Am I going back? I have to. Does it get any better? Not close. Can we tell women to cover themselves? Not a chance. Welcome to Sweden.