One of my major character flaws is that I like big time wrestling. Yes, yes, I know it's all an act but I used to enjoy boxing too. My Dad used to say, "Hey Jude, the fights are on" and we would settle in to listen to Rocky Marciano on the radio and later on T.V. Remember the show girl looking babes who, after the bell had done its clang, clang, clang thing and the boxers went to their corners, would stroll around the ring with large placards with the next round number on them? As I recall, these chicks balanced precariously on 6 inch stilletto heels and didn't have too much clothing to get in the way of showing off a whole lot of cleavage. They fascinated me. I figured that I would never look like them and I was correct. I haven't watched a boxing match in a while. I wonder if they still exist?
Club director, Jay, has a voice which, shall we say, carries well. To call each round, he says, "EVERYBODY MOVE FOR ROUND SIX; ROUND SIX!!!" For some reason, each time he does it I am reminded of the boxing announcers and I can see those strutting gals. I have proposed to some of my female partners that we get some posterboard, ink in some numbers, and when Jay calls the round, that we take the appropriate number and march around the club. Jay says we can do this only if we wear bikinis. None of my chicken female partners agreed even when I noted that all of us need the exercise. It was pointed out that the lack of exercise and eating too many club snacks is exactly why we shouldn't parade around scantily clad. Maybe so. Putting on a bathing suit to go out in the backyard is about my limit anyway.
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