Haute couture

Hea suusailm on väljas. Väga hea algus talvele- novembris pole nii palju suusatada saanudki.

Eile nägin uhiuut lohesurfi sugemetega moevoolu esimest näidist, otse Pirita suusarajal. Üks tubli suusamees oli suusakombinesoonile peale tõmmanud shortsid. Nii nagu lohemehed suvel teevad. Seljal oli sellel naljamehel kirjas Sküpe punkt komm. Sealt asutusest peaks paljude arvates Eesti Nokia tulema. Ma väga loodan, et see siiski polnud see kauaoodatud Nokia ja et tegemist oli lihtsalt mõne ärapetetud lohemehega.

Ilmselt pole kaugel ajad, kui lohemehed lillelisi suspesid ka näiteks smokingi peal kandma hakkavad. Sest need on ju nii ilusad. Ja põhiline, neist on palju abi.

Äkki mõni Sküpe vend (või lohevend) oskab lõplikult selgitada, miks peab shortse suusakombinesooni (või kalipso) peal kandama ja miks just lillelisi?

Üks internetist leitud essee sel teemal:

The first time I heard about the shorts-over-wetsuit debate was at a bar halfway to Cape Hatteras, North Carolina. I was a total kiteboarding newbie at the time and didn’t know a thing about any of it. I was having beers with a windsurfer and a kiteboarder, and they were talking about the pros and cons of each sport. Then the windsurfer says, “Yeah, kiting looks pretty fun, but what’s with the shorts over the wetsuit?”
And this is where the bull started flowing.
“Oh, that’s because we have to wait for the wind a bunch, so you end up sitting on the beach a lot. Don’t want to wreck your wetsuit.”
The windsurfer looked skeptical but left it alone. But I made a mental note of the topic and decided to find out for myself.
The truth is—and we all know this—us kiters are insecure about our packages. We’re insecure about our own packages, and we’re insecure about having to look at other dudes’ packages. Hell, if you really examine it, we’re insecure about looking at lady bits, too.
What makes covering ourselves up so lame is that the only other ones doing it are wakeboarders. The surfers aren’t doing it, the windsurfers aren’t doing it, divers aren’t doing it. Hell, boogie boarders aren’t even doing it. So why are we?
Are we really that ashamed of the size of our penises? Does accidentally looking at another dude’s package threaten our sexuality that much? Apparently, yes.
Over the years, I’ve tried both sides of the equation. In an effort to fit in, I threw shorts over my wetsuit, it’s true. Shorts were always one piece of gear I couldn’t go kiting without. They were more important than a pump, because someone else would always have a pump. Then I’d jump in the shower afterward and struggle to remove the wetsuit, forgetting that I had the shorts overtop of it. Then I’d jump in a hot tub with six other dudes (shorts on, of course).
And then, one day, I got over it. No, my package isn’t anything to be proud of. It looks tiny in a wetsuit. But I’m alright with it. It’s rare to see any single girls at the beach on the cold wetsuit days anyways—let’s face that fact right now. And if you’re a dude and you can’t stop looking at my package, then, shit, man, you’re the one with the issue (not that there’s anything wrong with that).
The worst part of this is that it’s sending the wrong message to non-kiters about kiting. It’s saying, “Hey, look at our sport. It’s cool, it’s fun, but we’re all a bit ashamed of our packages, and none of us are secure with our sexuality.”
And that, for lack of a better word, is pretty...