Just a wee bit intimidating

I've joined a gym and have been going most days for the past month. It's a nice way of starting my day since little bit is in nursery school five mornings a week and other than burying my head in a load of textbooks - exams in two weeks (!) - having a go on the stair-stepper is how I've been filling my mornings.

I only have one complaint about the gym, which may signal my prudish, American/Puritan values. I'm not sure whether to voice my complaint to the management or whether to keep shtum about my concerns. Lemme 'splain. My discomfort involves a young woman who, like me, finishes her workout around the same time. We both head up to the dressing room and shower at about the same time, too. Problem is, while I'm at the locker changing into my street clothes I can hear one of the hair dryers going and I KNOW what I'll find when I turn around to approach 'my' area of the bank of blow dryers and wooden stools. Said young woman does not put on a stitch of clothing (nay, not even knicketies) before she sits down (sometimes on a towel, sometimes not) in front of the mirrored wall and blow-dries her very long, flowing tresses. Those of you who know me might say, "Why are YOU griping?" I have to say, I'm not sure though I think it has to do with the fact that I have no where to 'put' my gaze. I cannot seem to stare straight at my own reflection for the entire five minutes it takes for me to blow-dry my own hair and sort out my face. It just feels unnatural to look elsewhere. I don't fixate on the fact that it's probably a bit unhygienic for her to sit naked on a surface that others will probably use, it's just that I don't know where to put my eyes.

I think it was Michel Foucault who really nailed home the point that it's not what we see or encounter but the value we attach to what we see or encounter. I am not offended by this woman's nakedness - it does nothing FOR me but it also does nothing TO me - I have not stopped attending the gym because I am worried that this woman might, again, be naked. I could lie and say that it's a bit gross to me that she sits naked on a wooden stool, but I'm made of hardier stuff than that - I KNOW what kind of body fluids we ALL have. What does get me a bit riled is my own reaction in that I do not know where to fix my gaze whilst she's next to me in the mirror. Will I get labeled a 'voyeur' by this woman if she catches me glancing about in a normal (not shifty) way? What could I say about her - she very nonchalantly tosses her hair this way and seems absolutely unconcerned about her state of dress. I do think it has not occurred to her that she might be committing some breach of decorum - at least in all the other locker rooms I've ever been in - and I would hate to impose my neurosis on her. On the other hand, what if she's getting some strange pleasure from my discomfort? Ah, I don't even want to think about that, it's too much and I'd be even more intimidated by that. At least I think I would.

Hmm.

Hairspray was Divine...

I've been lazy. I've been busy lurking on other people's blogs. I've been away with the fairies and a touch ill. Whatever you call it, I've not touched this blog in over a week and I thought I would just touch base and leave a quick note that Jay and I traveled up to the West End on Tuesday for a bit of a birthday show. We saw 'Hairspray' a la stage musical incarnation. I think Jon Waters would have been mildly pleased that his movie has been turned into a show that seems to rank with the 1990's version of 'Rent' and the current touring phenomenon, 'Mamma Mia', in terms of crowd pleasers and interactivity. I doubt, however, it would have interested Waters. The candy-coated stage adaptation of the movie (which starred the late-great, faeces-scoffing Divine) only had a few bright moments - the duet between Edna and Wilbur Turnblatt (Michael Ball and Mel Smith) and the closing number of the first act were top notch. All the rest was predictable and silly. Perhaps you will think that musical theatre is supposed to be light and easy on the ear, but I think that the storyline, as it was written for the stage, was actually too complicated. Trying to address the issues of integration, fat-phobia, juvenile delinquency, classism and dead-end extistences by reducing it to a few 'fat misguided girl makes good and leads the march for change on a segregated show' numbers, meant it felt old and tired quite quickly. I don't blame the stage actors - renewed general interest in Waters' work may mean that there is room for quirky and odd in the big money business of theatre and movie remakes.
Overall, I have to give the production two and a half stars. I hope that doesn't deter anyone from seeing it, in principle. It's an honourable attempt at recreating the wackiness that is Jon Waters, it just failed to hit its mark consistently and fluently. It was (as my writing has often been described) awkward. Awkward is okay if you don't charge money to see a production, like I did with my early childhood, neighbourhood shows. It's really not okay if you have to pay £60 for two hours of it...