I Can’t Decide Whose Olympic Team I’m Going to Join

Yeah, even I couldn’t finish that title without laughing and having to wipe the spit off my computer screen. I, my friends, am no athlete, not even now that overprotective mothers have somehow gotten their children’s schools to declare cup stacking to be a sport.

Once upon a time it might have been possible. I do know that there was a time in my life in which I sort of resembled a boney and lithe Russian gymnast. But then I turned four and no longer fit the bill. There was also a brief period in which my developing skeleton helped me at least look like an Olympic swimmer, but sadly, I quickly left Brazilian or Italian team swimmer behind and went straight to East German swim team member. Men’s team, women’s team…makes no difference.

Luckily, the years I spent living in Europe gave me the chance to spend a lot of time skiing, so there were a few years in which I looked like a downhill skier. Unluckily, I never said I got GOOD at downhill skiing, so I’m going to have to imagine that I looked like a member of the Olympic ski team from a country that is situated on the equator AND has no mountains. Those people don’t ski a lot, and therefore I could probably hang with them on the slopes.

Now that I don’t have a lot of time to train (I mean, work out, and by that I really just mean walk briskly), I’m starting to resemble a power lifter. Again, men’s team, women’s team…eh. I’m fighting with every ounce of strength I don’t have. I’m willing to settle for looking like most women pro bowlers I’ve seen. At least those ladies can still rock a pair of shorts. But I bet those cup stackers have some ripped biceps.