what the olympics have taught me…

the key to a smokin’ hot body?
two words:  beach volleyball.
too bad i didn’t like playing volleyball in gym class while in high school.
as for attempting to play it on the beach today?  oh, who in the hell am i kidding…until cornhole becomes an olympic event,
NONE of my sandy shenanigans will be olympic material.
sun goddess?  i’d like to think so.
beach volleyball star?  hell to the no.

i will NEVER look as fabulous as the female sprinters post-race.  do they even sweat??
seriously, those gals can get from point a to point b faster than i can get off the couch.
if i ever run that event, um, yeah…just remember to call 911.

clearly, i need to work on my diving skills.
once upon a time i used to jump off a platform at swim practice.
toes pointed, legs together, knees locked?  no.
by the time i hit the water, i was a flailing mess of arms and legs.
a half-ass cannonball, if you will.
belly flopping into the water from that high up feels like skidding across concrete.  trust.

i do not miss competitive swimming at all.
missy franklin, i am not.
besides, she’s got like a good two feet on me.

my rockin’ somersault will NEVER earn me a spot on the united states women’s gymnastics team.  but, the idea of prancing around in a bedazzled leotard is slightly appealing to me nonetheless.

the only way i’ll ever be able to jump over a line of hurdles
is if there was a j.crew sales rack on the other side.
or ryan lochte.

i’m not cut out to be a coxswain for a rowing team.
why?
because screaming “row, row, row your boat” isn’t a good way to
keep the boat moving straight.
{but i’m sure it’s a good way to get your ass thrown overboard.}

and, finally…

if there was a gold medal given out to the best couch potato,
then i’m your girl.

psst…if you’re interested in purchasing some thirty-one goodies {you know, before certain styles & prints retire this month}, then shop via this party link.  i’m closing the party on the 15th.