Sunday, September 06, 2009
Tights versus Pajamas
After the cycling helmet and the headlight, I naturally added cycling tights to my list. This met with vehement opposition from my wife, who felt it would be absolutely unnecessary to show the bulge around. Now that's one good way of reminding myself at this age that I am a man, I argued, but she wouldn't have any of it. She even cited an example of cycling shorts being banned in Utah for being obscene. Apparently, the Citizens for Decent Attire are trying to ban cycling shorts in Salt Lake City, Utah.
I was surprised to see this because in a country that hosts the World Naked Bike Ride, calling a pair of cycling tights indecent was taking things a bit too far. Undeterred by my wife's protests, I asked my bro (the anon who leaves cocky comments on my blog every now and then) to check out some cycling tights when he went to buy his tennis gear. He called saying there's one L, which he didn't think would fit me. According to him, my crotch would asphyxiate and die inside the L. Please don't get ideas as these tights are sold by the waist size and not any other size. Going by my waist size (or how it has become over the last couple of months), XL would be a safer bet, we both decided.
As children, most boys wanted to wear their briefs outside à la Superman. I was no exception. I spent numerous afternoons prancing around in front of our mirror dressed like that. My critics (mainly my dad and mom and later my wife) hold that this particular activity in front of the mirror for many years cost me my grades in school. I have always disagreed with them. You should ALWAYS disagree with someone who points out errors in you. After all, your life is too short to while away trying to conform to what others think is right. So I kept wearing my briefs outside, but never outdoors.
After having bought the bicycle I felt the time has come to live my childhood dream. If not briefs, at least through my cycling shorts. Beware Bangalore, SupAri has arrived. (this cartoon is courtesy James, who has always nurtured a clandestine desire to see me in the nude)
And so I finally went out in them one day, the bulge notwithstanding. Some people noticed, some didn't, some kids were bothered only about the "geared bike," and some others noticed only Aaron's Firefox with its headlights. The ultimate macho dad of Aaron was riding next to him, showing off his thighs and crotch, expecting all the moms in the neighborhood to swoon, when suddenly he was chased by a pack of hungry dogs who sensed something new in this attire. Whether the dogs chased my feminine legs or the bulge, I cannot tell, but riding away from them that day was my fastest run so far. It was so maddeningly fast, I can't even emulate it if you ask me to.
So now I don't wear them tights any more. I preserve whatever I have inside baggy shorts and ride next to the same dogs who don't even cock an ear when I ride by. Gone are the dreams of being Robin or Superman. I have settled to be a decent husband instead, fetching groceries on my bike like my dad used to many years back, wearing pajamas if possible.
Let the Ram Sene guys take over for all I care. At least I can send them a pack of wild pets if not pink panties.
(image from http://reviews.roadbikereview.com)
(for the MOST hilarious pic, check out http://www.funnycoolstuff.com/2006/09/18/why-bicycle-shorts-are-always-black/)