The odd one out

A and I are in the quest of spicing up our weekends. Sports, visiting friends, anything than just the usual staying-at-home routine. This quest brought us to Nadrazi Branik last weekend to play badminton.

I had the surprise of my life when I entered the women's locker room. Three women, apparently friends, were parading there naked, as naked as the day they were born. They were casually lotioning their arms while talking about beach volley or the sport they were playing. As if on cue to add to my discomfort, another woman came out of the shower, as naked as her other sisters were. Heck, I'm not a prude. Just that where I come from nakedness is something not treated with casual abandon.

I wanted to bolt out of the room because dressed as I was, I felt like the odd one out. What the heck, I said to myself. If I can't beat them, I'll join them! Easily said than done especially when I saw the papayas and melons dangling infront of me. I was really the odd one out with nothing but a pair of raisins to show. I changed my mind about joining fruit forces with them, hurriedly changed into my badminton outfit and bolted out of the room with a bruised ego.