Day 63- Men's Figure Skating

Despite the fact that I was terrified that my dad would try to give me a Dorothy Hamill wedge haircut in my sleep (he's probably still hoping I will give in and go for this- not going to happen), I have always thoroughly enjoyed women's figure skating.  Dorothy and Peggy and Kristy and Nancy and Oksana and Michelle were all idols for little me.

It wasn't until this year's Olympics that I really started to take a liking to men's figure skating too.  I swear I remember it being terribly boring in the past... all black costumes and a focus on nailing as many jumps as possible in the absence of artistry.  Don't get me wrong, I think Scott Hamilton seems like a real stand up guy, but the skaters of yore just seemed to be lacking that special something.

The guys that I have been watching the past two nights have, if I may borrow a phrase from the 90's, all that AND a bag of chips.  Spray tans and feathers and Phantom and glitz and glamour and Jimi Hendrix... the drama, the drama, the drama!

I enjoyed Patrick Chan and his endearing smile.  There was another guy, a Frenchy whose name escapes me, who had absolutely stunning spins unlike anything I have ever seen.  I adore Evan Lysacek, with his Dancing With the Stars meets Jersey Shore look and persona.  And who could forget Johnny Weir?  Oh, that Johnny Weir is a pretty, pretty lady.  I don't mean any disrespect by this, and I think he may actually like to be called a pretty lady.  What he and these other men do is totally challenge the notions I have of masculinity and femininity by combining incredible athleticism and glorious artistry in Ken doll costumes made from the dreams of six year old girls.  Fabulous.

The only thing that might make this even better for me would be a dance battle on ice between Johnny and another skater of his choice.  Wouldn't that just be grand?

Thank you, men's figure skating, you made my day.



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