Every straight man’s dream has been airing on Country Music Television. Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making The Team is a half hour long gratuitous ass shot. About 45 girls run around in mega short shorts and tiny sports bras dancing and jiggling in all the right places. Hair whips around. Teeth gleam. Eyes wink. Abs and hips and arms jut and stretch. Lips quiver. It’s all very athletic in that erotic kind of way.
These girls work hard. They sweat. They have to smile every second which can be a hassle when they’re being berated for not being able to dance or kick. Talk about athletic. They have to do something called a synchronized jump split. They latch arms, jump in the air really high, and then land on their crotches with their legs spread in a front to back split. That can’t be good for the vagina.
They do these high kicks that are inhuman. They dance their asses off. They wave around pom poms for hours at a time. Cheerleading really is hard work.
The ladies also have to go through basic training with this ex-military guy who also had an appearance on one of those wife swap trading spouses shows. He doesn’t make it easy for them to be in shape. He sets all their exercises up as competitions and they go through rigorous obstacle courses and boot camp scenarios. They even do practice football runs with some of the players (who they aren’t allowed to date—that right there would get me so kicked off the squad).
Gimme an E! Gimme an A! Gimme a T! Gimme an I! Gimme an N! Gimme a G! Gimme a D I S O R D E R! What’s that spell? It spells unnaturally strict requirement to be on the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader Squad! The directors of the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders are looking for what they call a specific body type. I understand their logic; they need girls who will fit into the teeny tiny uniform which is half-panties, cowboy boots, and half-bras with long sleeves. It’s completely unforgiving. Muffin tops beware. All the girls are practically emaciated. Even so, some of them still don’t look right in the uniform according to the women making the cuts. A tiny bit of chub doesn’t look bad. It looks healthy. They don’t agree. They even told one girl that in her pictures she looks short and stubby in the uniform. I weigh slightly under 100 pounds (unless you count the very off-weighing scale at my doctor’s office during a recent visit that sent me into a tailspin when it told me I was ten pounds heavier than I’ve been in a decade and I freaked out because hey, ten pounds is a lot to not notice right?, especially when you’re four foot ten like I am). So I weight slightly under 100 pounds and even I would look tremendous in that uniform. Some girls have curves. Those girls, including myself, can’t be cheerleaders. They will never have the body type. How about this: CHANGE THE FUCKING UNIFORM TO BE A BIT MORE FORGIVING TO PROMOTE HEALTHY BODY TYPES INSTEAD OF THE MINORITY OF NATURALLY EMACIATED ONES.
Aside from that, the BEST part of the show are the cuts. The two head cheering people call the girls into the office. The blonde sits on a filing cabinet behind the brunette who sits at a desk and looks down at a bunch of papers while saying, “We’ve come to the point where we’ve starting making cuts.” And then she stumbles some more before finally saying, “Tonight will be your last night.” Then the girl who’s being cut says, “Thank you,” starts wimpering, says, “I’m sorry,” clutches her nose, and then goes into convulsions, trying to hold it together. Meanwhile, the blonde might say something like, “take dance classes,” or “you’re a pretty girl,” and the brunette will say, “It’s been a hard decision but you can’t seem to get that weight off,” and in an interview she’ll clarify that the girl isn’t fat but simply has the wrong body type, or she’ll say, “Your kicks haven’t developed” or something to that effect. Then the girl sits there sniffling. Then there’s an awkward pause. Every single time, AWWWWWWK—WAAAAAAARD pause. Because the blonde and brunette don’t say “thank you for your time” or “you’re dismissed” so the girl doesn’t know what to do. Finally, she notices that no one is saying anything, mumbles another thank you, and spins around and leaves.
[b]And THIS is why I love reality tv[/b]: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: reality tv allows me to live vicariously. Someone else’s awkward moment is one less awkward moment I’ll have to live through myself.
And I don’t feel one bit bad about exploiting it.
Email me your best cheer by clicking on my envelope above. Chat in the forums about just how skinny a cheerleader can be before she becomes invisible. And come [b][url=http://christinamrau.blogspot.com]Live The Dream[/url][/b] with me one loser at a time. Talk about awkward reality.