I am writing this blog in Las Vegas, where I am attending the Olympia Weekend 2010. Obviously this is a serious research trip for Feminist Figure Girl. I am here with G-Smash, a heavyweight bodybuilder planning to network, and my partner, an enthusiastic poker player who has never been happier. He is able to play in tournaments to his heart’s content, knowing that I will be drinking free vodka sodas at the Alligator bar with G instead of resentfully crying into my pillow back in the hotel room. Ha. Like I have ever done that in my life! Immediately after arriving yesterday, we headed outside to drink cans of Bud Light while swimming in the hotel pool. Fuckin’ A!
The Olympia events started that first night, with G and I taxiing it to the Orleans to ‘meet the athletes’ (my partner went somewhere else, wearing sunglasses and a baseball hat). At the Orleans, all the competitors were sitting behind tables laden with photographs and posters, alternately signing autographs and standing up to pose for pictures with various devotees and wanabees. Was I one of them? Hell yes. The social event was very crowded, with what seemed like hundreds of people lined up to see Jay Cutler, Mr. Olympia 2009. He did not interest me, though I like his frosted blonde fauxhawk. I like it even more on his poseable action doll, which includes an alternate hairstyle as an accessory (Word of advice to children of the 1970s: do not try to stretch its arms like pull taffy; they will break). I rushed to see my idol, Iris Kyle, Ms. Olympia five (and now six) times running. An image of her back hangs over the desk in my home office, each huge and well proportioned muscle clearly delineated from the other. Strangely there was no one in front of Iris’ table at the Orleans. We walked right up, blurted out awkward statements of our love for her, and then grinned crazily while standing beside her for photos. I wish I could include some shots—those who know me can check them out on facebook—but at least I have pasted below an image of her on stage during prejudging, so that you can see her wonderfulness for yourself.
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