2006-05-26

50th birthday of the bikini: A brief analysis (of unintended consequences)

Coyote and I were musing the other day that some things just can't miss. Until they go horribly awry. Remember, for instance, the paperless society? The four-day work week? Or the Senators' Cup prospects? In this vein, it's worth noting the 50th anniversary of that flirtatiously eyebrow-raising fashion, the bikini.

Upon its debut, only the most daring and darling of models donned the revealing swimsuit. Fast forward to your latest trip to the beach. While some bikini devotees still do justice to the outfit, many others may be better off with swimwear that is, well, more suited to their form. And so we have yet another invention that, like the airplane, is just wonderful when all is right. But one that can be no less than disastrous when things go wrong.

The skimpy swimsuit celebrating a golden anniversary takes its name from the Bikini atoll of the South Pacific, where the atomic bomb was tested. It's not surprising, somehow, that the nuclear weapon dropped on Nagasaki was nicknamed Fat Man. For people of both genders now think nothing of strolling along the sand in a minimal amount of lycra-spandex, no matter how bounteous their shape may be.

And so I, for one, cannot help but applaud our dear Agatha for her springfound desire to nip, tuck and tone. While Aggie is indisputably an admirable paragon of fitness and grooming, she strives to do even better by working with her very own personal trainer. Let us hope that unlike the hapless Sens, she can look forward to success, with no untoward incidents in the arduous months ahead.

After all, history records that none other than Priscilla Presley succumbed to temptation in the arms of her fitness trainer. But let us not be too harsh. Who knows what led Priscilla astray? Just maybe, one 1975 summer day, she caught a poolside glimpse of her husband ... clad only in a Speedo.

8 comments:

coyote said...

Well, really, I think you imply that it boils down to each of us taking personal responsibility, for appropriate, tasteful fitness and grooming choices.

But I firmly believe that the inventors of spandex have much to answer for, in, um, widening those choices a little too much...

4th Dwarf said...

Go ahead, you skinny-assed brief-tards, spout yer intolerant nonsense.

You won't affect my plans.

I'll keep wearin' my speedo. The dwarf has nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of.

And I'd rather be sleek and speedy like a killer whale than floundering like you two swimmin' in yer bloomers.

coyote said...

Oh. I see. You think I wear might wear something to swim, do you? How delightfully anthropomorphist of you...

Agatha said...

I have always preferred the tankini.
4D, while I appreciate your au naturel look, I'm wondering if you have considered getting a little waxing done?

4th Dwarf said...

Canine lad, is it that y'don't have a swimsuit or that you can't swim?

And Aggie, is that a dig about my loss in the beard-off? You think I need to bring in help to wax my mane into an architectural wonder?

coyote said...

I swim fine. Even festooned with kelp, in the middle of hurricanes. As you no doubt remember from last minutes of the Vendetta.

I think, Short Guy, the lady suggests something more radical. And, I hope, painful. I fully support Agatha in advocating that we only make room for one hairy-ass varmint on this here blog...

Conch Shell said...

Okay -- enough already. Somebody post a pretty picture

Agatha said...

I will be posting soon on my experience with my personal trainer today.