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. Enough of trying to prevent indecent exposure; enough of clandestine undergarment wrestling sessions where your mind is screaming, why are these panties sticking to my thighs, just get on my body already, DAMMIT.

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We've all experienced that moment when we've walked into a locker room to see a woman letting it all hang out with zero shame. Yeah, it's uncomfortable, but have you ever stopped and thought about giving those ladies a bit of credit? Whether they've just gotten out of the shower, or are leisurely checking their cell phones butt naked, it takes a strong, confident woman to parade her body in front of a bunch of randos. Baron Von Sketch , an all women Canadian comedy show, shows a huge appreciation for these women.
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Skip navigation! Story from Body. I assessed the situation from my spot in front of my locker. Behind me, I could see a stack of freshly folded towels, in full view of the rest of the gym. I held my sweaty bra in my hands and considered my options. I considered putting my bra back on, allowing me to walk, at least partially covered, to the stack of towels by the shower. OR I could re-dress completely, wriggling back into all my sweaty clothes. Then I thought of my grandmother, Minnie. The Minnie of my childhood, a true force of nature, has become obscured.
All of my male media brethren went cruising into this sacred place, and then, there was only me—the lone female reporter covering a USC football game—waiting outside. Me, the girl who has no fear, was nervous. Fear of the unknown tends to do that to you. Cripes, maybe I should just wait til they all get dressed before talking to them? In I went into the world of major testosterone, stinky athletic shoes, and wrinkled jerseys, and out I came a different person. The players were roaming around in towels or standing by their lockers speaking into digital recorders—no one was smacking towels on butts, no one was making soap jokes. It was very business-like. Was I stared at? Nope, in fact, I was invisible. I was one of the guys.