Of Helmets and Gymsuits

Last night on the local news there was a story about the girls' soccer team from my old high school being up-in-arms about having to wear protective headgear, whereas the boys' team could bash their heads in any which way they wanted.

It got me to thinking about my own years in junior and senior high, in a gym class sorta way and I thought I would share my trip down memory lane with you, dear reader. (*tap tap* Is this thing on?)

Seventh grade gym class meant more than just supervised "play" as we'd been enjoying since the early days of first grade. This was serious. It was all about getting the Presidential Physical Fitness patch. And what were we to stitch this patch onto, but a gymsuit. Gym. Suit. The very word is making me cringe. How come the boys could wear shorts and a t-shirt, but girls were forced to drive to JC Penney to buy a gymsuit? Life sucks.

But we are talking about the early-mid 70's.......before shoulderpads, toe-socks and platform shoes. Lucky for us, we actually had two options for our gymsuits - one was a royal blue, snap-down-the-front bloomer contraption that did nothing but make butts look larger, while also hiding the less-than-ample bustline. This option was the one for me. The other option was a red & white over-all styled suit that snapped at the shoulders. It was cuter than the blue one, but my mom said I looked better in blue and since she was forking over the $15, her vote ruled. My friend E (protecting the innocent) always got what she (and I) wanted and thus, she got the red suit.

One day while training for the PPFT, we were practicing our gymnastics moves. For safety reasons, we had to have a buddy "spot" for each of us. E & I were practicing back bends. (Oh my gosh, how did we bend ourselves like that?) E was in full bend when the lesbian teacher (okay, I don't know this as fact, but it's a gym teacher for goodness sakes) said something creepy about how she needed to bend more. (early pervdom perhaps?) E tried with all her might but needed just that little nudge to get her there, so I grabbed a handful of red polyester fabric at her waist/stomach and tugged - upwards. Suddenly the snaps at both shoulders gave way and I had a handful of red fabric. Poor E was completely exposed, training bra and all. That dang gymsuit sprung away from her body like a rubber band. All we could do was laugh. And laugh. And laugh some more. Oh yeah, and get her covered up again.

I was deep in thought on my sofa last night when this story popped into my bourbon-clouded mind when suddenly I laughed until I snorted. Out loud. Alone. It was a beautiful moment. I giggled for about an hour after that. In fact, I'm still giggling. At E's expense. Sorry, E.

Love ya babe. Don't ever change. And don't do any backbends without a spotter.

Now - y'all move it along. There's nothing to see here. Go on!