I would not ask you to do this if it weren’t important. You must go, right now, to the New York Times website and look at these photos. If you do not have a login, you must scrounge around on the web for one, or break down and give them your hotmail address (we both know you don’t use it except for porn).
When you go, what you will see is, perhaps, the most beautiful display of womanly power. The picture I’ve been staring at all day shows a woman in a long yellow skirt, some black pumps, and a nice jacket with her arms up in the air as she comes flying off the top rope of a wrestling ring towards her opponent.
If you go through the slide show, you will see women in large pink skirts and matching pumps throwing each other around, a gray skirted woman standing triumphantly over her opponent, and some awesome fire-breathing.
There’s something here, among the artistry and the athleticism and the shock of seeing your mom’s wardrobe on wrestlers, that really gets me right in the gut.
I think it has in part to do with the fact that these women are throwing each other around in get-ups that, when you’re in them, feel designed to keep you demure and calm and careful. But it also has to do with how triumphantly present they are.
I’m in awe of that.
I wish I were comfortable enough in my own body that I knew that, if I came flying at you from the top rope, I could hit you and we’d both be okay. Bruised, maybe, but okay.