|Current mood:|| giggly|
|Current music:||Classical Thunder Khachaturian - Sabre Dance|
Eating With Naked Men For College
This is the essay i wrote for the colleges i applied to
Never did I imagine eating dinner in a room full of loud, obnoxious, AND NAKED men. Now I’ve done just that, and more. During a recent visit to Cleveland, my uncle somehow convinced my dad and I to partake in a custom, called, “the Schvitz.”
Unaccustomed to public displays of nudity, and being a self-conscious teenager, revealing my naked body in front of strangers meant a huge risk. It will remain as one of my life’s most memorable events.
Driving there, my uncle described what we should expect. To fully understand “the Schvitz,” one must “bare-all.” “Bare” with me as I describe “the Schvitz.”
Upon entering, I saw nothing but old men, walking around wearing only skimpy towels wrapped loosely around not-so-skimpy bodies. Logic told me I would soon be joining them, along with my uncle, AND MY FATHER. Off went my clothes, a skimpy towel wrapped loosely around my not-so- skimpy body.
My uncle led us down damp, uneven stairs to the steam room, with its blistering heat and moisture. My uncle settled at the highest tier of benches, to which rises the greatest amount of heat. In a matter of seconds, we were drenched with sweat, and our nostrils were scorched like flaming marshmallows. We baked for nearly 20 minutes when my uncle cheerfully announced it was time for the ice-water pool.
We were expected to whip the towels off our heat-exhausted bodies and jump into the ice-cold water. Many jumped in eagerly. I stood uncomfortably at the edge, towel in place. I ignored my fears, whipped off my towel, and plunged in. Five seconds later, out I came. It was the most shocking sensation I’ve ever felt. Being from the Pacific Northwest, I know about cold water, but this was by far the coldest I’ve ever felt.
Dried and towel in place, our next stop was upstairs for a massage. Yes, this too, in the nude, and in a room packed with other men. Instructed to lie on my back, I made sure my towel remained tightly wrapped around my waist until the masseuse grabbed and pulled off my towel. I tried to relax as the masseuse pressed his oiled hands into almost every inch of my body. Actually, once over the discomfort of being naked, I really did enjoy how the massage soothed my cramped muscles.
Through my scorched nostrils came the scent of dinner, yet another surprise. Sitting in the dining room, I realized I was with 30 loud and NAKED men, yelling obnoxiously while drinking vodka and wolfing down steaks. Humored and awed, I pondered the risk I’d taken to be a part of “the Schvitz.”
It’s a lasting memory that also proved a risk from which I did not back down. Never had I dreamed I would be naked in a steam room, in an ice-cold pool, on a massage table, and while in a dining room eating a steak dinner. Having conquered this risk, I’m ready for anything, preferably clothed and with a college education.