The pelvic thrusts

Most days, I had the sauna to myself, getting reacquainted with the dry heat after months away.

One afternoon after my shift, I stepped inside to find it unexpectedly crowded. I took the only remaining seat in a dark corner, noting the elderly woman sprawled out naked before me, as if she were basking on a nude beach. Leathery skin shriveled over bony limbs, sagging breasts fully on display. The confidence was impressive, honestly.

I closed my eyes and pretended to be in the Caribbean. Aqua-blue water lapping against soft white sand, toucans cawing, the scent of coconut oil. 

Then came the grunting.

Snapping my eyes open, the woman’s leg muscles were tensed as she engaged in a series of pelvic thrusts — right there on the cedar bench. 

For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. Then she did it again.

Before I could stop myself, I erupted. “Oh hell no! You are not doing that right now.” She gave a startled look, like she didn’t know I was there. Had she really thought she was alone? A defiant calmness settled over her, one that said she had no shame. She simply turned her head back to the center, closed her eyes, and inhaled as her belly rose. 

The third woman in the sauna, who’d been sitting quietly, wrapped in a towel with her eyes closed, was wide awake. We eyed each other in disbelief, an incredulous laugh erupting from our lips at the same time. Clutching the cheap white towel to my chest, I laughed harder. Pushed open the heavy sauna door, the cool breeze upon my skin, and walked to the locker room, hunched over in laughter.

The “Sauna Lady” in Chicago. What would she have said about the pelvic thrusts? Would she have eyed the woman with pity, quietly grabbing her key before slinking off to the locker room? If she had the inclination to share any wisdom, she wouldn’t have interrupted pelvic thrusts to do it, I can tell you that.

In Chicago, her answer to everything was “Grab a soft-serve ice cream from McDonald’s, sit in the shadow of the Wrigley Building, and watch the world go by.” What redeeming qualities would she have found in L.A. Fitness — a suburban Mecca sandwiched between Nordstrom Rack and Chipotle? Would I have told her about being in withdrawal? Probably not. It’s not sophisticated enough for her. 

But her advice still applied.

Get the ice cream.

Soft-serve from McDonald’s is where it’s at.