Istanbul nude videos
Fabulous, not only would I be naked in front of a large group of women, I would also be positioned directly in front of the door, greeting everyone who entered the room in all my shining glory. If anything this would make for a great blog post, right guys?
Tip-toeing to my towel, I quickly laid on my stomach, hoping this would be over quickly.
Maybe I’m just naïve, but I thought I would get massaged in a private room. Adjusting the straps of her own enormous bathing suit, she replied in gruff English, “no swimming suit” and pulled my towel right off of me. Left standing by the door without a shred of clothing or dignity, hopping from foot to foot, I emitted and odd sort of “EEP” sound before throwing up my hands to my face, trying not to have an anxiety attack. It literally took ALL my self control not to snatch my towel back and run the other way.
Taking deep breaths I made eye contact with the other woman across the room, clearly she wasn’t expecting this either. Of course, like how things most often work out in my life, a group of about 8 Russian women came in next, along with a big group of middle aged German ladies, one of whom, lay her towel out on the platform and was wearing bathing suit bottoms. I’m the kind of girl who hyperventilates at my annual visit to the female fear factory (aka the gyn) and who changes in the bathroom stall at the gym. Ayla was of course oblivious to my inner freak-out and laid the towel out on the marble platform directly next to the door. But no, I promised myself several goals for 2013, including saying yes to everything and having a year of firsts.
Rather rotund, exuding a matronly air of authority and knowing about 8 words in English, upon introduction she pinched both my cheeks and said, “You baby! ” And grabbed my hand and dragged me off to the steam room. Telling me to wait ten minutes, Ayla left me to the company of two older women in the enormous octagonal marble room I’d seen in travel brochures.
I changed out of my clothes, leaving my bathing suit in my bag, wrapped my tiny checkered linen towel about my person as tightly as possible, and pattered off to meet my masseuse, let’s call her Ayla.
Tyler Anthony pops around the corner and begins to bully Turk.