Age, Cancer, and Potatoes.

I went to the gym today, and for a fleeting moment, almost just drove back home without going in. Why? The parking lot was crowded, which would lead me to believe that there would be other people in the gym, which would mean people would see me working out. It's possible I'm slightly overly self-conscious, but, hey, that's the way it is.

But I was brave, and went in. It wasn't exactly crowded - this particular gym never is. I scan my little keytag card, head back to the locker room, and am immediately transported through a hole in the fabric of space-time to a convention of little old ladies.

Seriously. (Okay, I made up the space-time hole thing, but the rest stands). The women's locker room is fairly small, smaller even than the one at the 400-student college I used to attend. And it's packed to the brim with older women. I was the youngest in there by a good forty years, easy. For one, this was a little bit weird: previous to today I've seen at most two other people in the locker room at any one time, and now there were seriously a dozen people. I then realized that a non-intense water-aerobics-type class had just finished, and that's why the elderly female population of South Jersey was in the locker room of my little local gym.

I retreated into the sole changing stall not so much out of modesty, but out of a desire to not be quite so crowded as I changed. There were two prominant conversations I picked up a decent portion of, though, and it was a frightening glimpse into what happens when we get old. One was several women talking about dermatology and skin cancer. The consensus seemed to be that at least three of them had at some point had something looked at and biopsied, and that the medical system in Britain is much more effective: one woman's nephew got the biospy results back while he was still under anesthesia. None of them seemed overly worried about their doctors finding suspicious things, and that made me think: Is that what happens when you get old? Your body starts to betray you, and it's just locker room chatter after your workout? 'Yeah, she [the doctor] said that if it has to be removed, she'll call me within two weeks." Just cool acceptance of the facts.

In other news: Villagers admire each other's potatoes must be the best headline ever written. Breaking news: Villagers! Potatoes! Admiration!