Lusting After Olympic Swimmers
Back when I was in junior high (AKA middle school) I had a poster of '72 Olympic swimmer Mark Spitz hanging on the back of my bedroom door. It was life-size, full color and featured him in all his stars and stripes Speedo and 7 gold medal glory. Ooooh baby. Now some of you might be tempted to stop the visual at "Speedo" but trust me, this was no average photo. He was at the time the perfect specimen of a young studly guy. His mustache, six-pack abs and feathered hairdo added to the allure.
Swimmers. There's just something about those big strong broad shoulders, those narrow hips, those skimpy clingy bathing suits, those bulging
leg muscles. Thanks to Mark Spitz I've always had a thing for swimmers.
I love watching all of the Olympics but my favorite has always been the men's swimming events. Besides being exciting It's been the fodder for many a fantasy over the years. And then there's hunky Michael Phelps -- what a bod! *Skreeeeech! As I sat watching him swim last night in all his HD glory it occurred to me that I WAS OLD ENOUGH TO BE HIS MOTHER. Ewwwww. It was as bad as the time when I was at a wedding reception and I overheard the bride's dad commenting about the cute ass on one of the bridesmaids to his buddy. I remember thinking to myself "Lusting after girls young enough to be his daughter -- What a slime-bucket!" Now I've sunk to his level without realizing it. Shame on me.
I guess I have passed over to a different place in life. In my defense it's not that I like men 30 years my junior, I just don't feel like I'm 30 years older. Sometimes you just have to be hit between the eyes with a two by four to make it sink in, kinda like the time I threatened to embarrass my daughter and buy one of those t-shirts that said "Mrs. Kucher" or "Mrs. Federline" and then she pointed out that if I wore those everyone would think the Mrs. part meant mother of not married to. Ouch.
So I've decided to still lust after a swimmer's body but not that of a boy that my daughter could marry. The new object of my attention is Dara Torres. She's my new hero. She's a mom, she's over 40, she's still competing with the best of them and she's still winning medals. For all the times I've watched the young athletic bodies and justified to myself that they're young and they haven't popped out a 8 and a half pound baby so maybe I should be satisfied with my aging self and quit the physical fitness quest, all I have to do is watch Dara and I get inspired.
I might not get to beach volleyball bikini bod status but here's hoping...
This is an original 50-Something Moms post. When Lollie isn't gathering the motivation to go and swim some laps she's also blogging on Deep South Moms.