There is something I just don’t understand.  We belong to the neighborhood pool.  OK, I understand that part, just bear with me.  It’s a very nice club, well tended.  There is a baby pool, a pool for laps and lessons, and a pool for diving and just having fun.  There are gas barbecues and picnic tables.  Lifeguards are on duty at all times.  Also among the amenities, in a tiled nook between the bathrooms, are three outdoor showers, with both hot and cold water.  

OK, here’s what I don’t get.  I always assumed the showers were for rinsing off the chlorine, and maybe warming up.  But I see whole families who stand there in their swimsuits doing almost a full body scrub, plus shampoo and conditioner.  From the number of people who do this, I know they can’t all be off someplace else with no time to go home.  Besides, it’s a neighborhood  pool.  What, you don’t have time to drive two blocks?  

We are not on the swim team.  We don’t live at the pool like swim team families do.  We are purely recreational members.  So I thought maybe I just wasn’t in the know, and asked a good friend who is a swim team mom about this mystery.  This friend, who is blond, offered up the explanation that they might be trying to prevent green hair.  

Hmm…OK.  I’ll buy that.  At least from the shoulders up.  But what about the all the liquid soap and bars of Dial in little travel containers I see?  Not for your hair, and I haven’t noticed anybody swapping a swimsuit for a birthday suit.  Do you see where this is going? 

C’mon, people!  What part of you most needs a good scrubbin’?  Yeah, that’s right.  Hiney. 

I’ve watched an entire family soap all around their swimsuits, giving pits special attention, carefully shampoo and condition hair, then go into the bathroom and change into fresh clothes.  Do these people think they’re clean?  Have these parents ever seen their children’s booties?  ‘Cause let me tell you, kids don’t wipe that well.  It really shouldn’t need explaining, but since it apparently does, let me not mince words:  

You need to wash your crotch, people!  

One man apparently got it, because I saw him stick his hand down his pants and give the boys a good once over.  Frankly, I’d rather see people leave with dirty tushy than watch that exhibition again. 

I never considered myself an extremist in hygiene.  I guess I always assumed washing your crotch was paramount in personal cleanliness to anybody who bothered to shower in the first place.  It seems I am mistaken.  Every time we go to the pool, while my kids splash and play, I stare in fascination at these skimmers.  I keep thinking I must be missing something.  I just can’t imagine showering without washing your butt.  I’d love to follow these people home.  I’ll bet their homes would put mine to shame.  Heck, most people’s homes would put mine to shame.  Ha!  But I’ve got something on them now.  Next time some rich, snooty mom tries to lord it over me with her gazillion dollar monstrosity built on a postage stamp lot where one is not allowed to wear shoes past the threshold, I’ll be smirking inside.  

My house may look a mess, but there’s no dirt under the rug, you know?