Last weekend my family and I watched the Olympics, and the event of the hour was the men's 10 meter platform diving. The kids were mesmerized by the flips and twists and were rating dives based upon the size of the splash. (They get that the smaller splash is a good thing, so they just compare water spray to determine who should win gold. That's regulation, I think) We saw one diver exit the platform (dive in, not wimp out like I would immediately do from 10 meters high) from a handstand. A HANDSTAND! I hope he got extra points for bravery if nothing else. IF, and that is indeed a big if, I managed to muster the courage to jump from a 10 meter platform, not only would I not be standing on my hands, I would never be able to dive head first. It would be something more like pencil-straight, legs together, one arm glued to my side with the other bent so as to pinch my nose closed. My eyes would be squenched shut and my mouth tightly holding in that giant breath that would have to last me until I eventually flail panicked back to the surface. It goes without saying that every other muscle-controlled orifice on my body would also be clenched tightly closed. When that kind of jump becomes an Olympic event, I am totally trying out!
Beyond the elaborate dives and gymnastic feats, I was equally awed by the fact that such tiny swimsuits stayed put so well after plummeting so far and impacting the water forcibly. My 4 year old is the king of diving into our pool from surface level and coming up with his hiney exposed, but these Olympic divers never even sport so much as a wedgie! It's impressive. The function of the suit I mean. I'm going to start ordering David Boudia's particular Speedo style to wear as my every day undies. If they can take that kind of pressure and still keep all of his bits well-concealed all the way to the gold medal stand, then certainly they could withstand a mother's constant bending to pick up Legos, shoes, and laundry without creeping. While I could never ever under any circumstances condone an adult male wearing a Speedo on a beach, at a pool, or anywhere outside of an Olympic diving platform, perhaps that's the draw. Middle-aged overweight men like the comfort of knowing their swimwear will stay put. While the rest of us are disgusted by one man's inability to decently cover himself, he's looking at the big man in board shorts picking his wedgie thinking to himself "I'm SO glad I'm not that guy!" Or maybe he just wants to be prepared in case a diving platform and a challenge ever presents itself, in which case, we will all be glad he's got the right suit to hold it all together.
Beyond the elaborate dives and gymnastic feats, I was equally awed by the fact that such tiny swimsuits stayed put so well after plummeting so far and impacting the water forcibly. My 4 year old is the king of diving into our pool from surface level and coming up with his hiney exposed, but these Olympic divers never even sport so much as a wedgie! It's impressive. The function of the suit I mean. I'm going to start ordering David Boudia's particular Speedo style to wear as my every day undies. If they can take that kind of pressure and still keep all of his bits well-concealed all the way to the gold medal stand, then certainly they could withstand a mother's constant bending to pick up Legos, shoes, and laundry without creeping. While I could never ever under any circumstances condone an adult male wearing a Speedo on a beach, at a pool, or anywhere outside of an Olympic diving platform, perhaps that's the draw. Middle-aged overweight men like the comfort of knowing their swimwear will stay put. While the rest of us are disgusted by one man's inability to decently cover himself, he's looking at the big man in board shorts picking his wedgie thinking to himself "I'm SO glad I'm not that guy!" Or maybe he just wants to be prepared in case a diving platform and a challenge ever presents itself, in which case, we will all be glad he's got the right suit to hold it all together.
