Olympic Sexercise

In the past week there has been one thing on everybody's mind. The Olympics.
If I'm totally honest, I am just not the biggest fan. It all started a couple of weeks ago when I found myself hearing alerts on the radio to avoid roads in London during the Olympics.
After hearing things like 'don't get caught out' and 'prepare yourself' eerily creeping from my radio it honestly felt like a world war was hitting London rather than a sporting event.
After all of this forewarning, hearing news of Olympic torches going off across London while I was in Spain only made me a little concerned that these so called 'athletes' were actually a consumer terrorist group coming to burn down Topshop. You can imagine my concern.

However much I appreciate the patriotism of Team GB, I can't help but feel like they're trying to make the Olympics a little too relevant to my life. As a girl whose greatest sporting achievement was taking part in the Maccabi Games, an event in which little Jewish kids compete between puffing on their inhalers and BBMing, I can't quite relate to Jessica Ennis. After all, I'm pretty sure she didn't fake an ankle injury halfway through the race because she heard there was ice cream. Don't think I'm joking. It was worth it.
Nonetheless the Olympics have tried to encroach on all aspects of my life through advertising. Little did I know before turning on the TV that there was a way of linking the Olympics to my hair, my lunch and even my period. Every girl knows that there are only two things that can go through one's mind when they get their period. "Thank fuck I'm not pregnant" and "Where's the chocolate?"...two things rarely associated with athletics.

So, in spite of my aversion to sports and public events that you can't get drunk at, I had to find a way to relate the Olympics to myself and more importantly my blog. Sexercise of course.
One thing that I noticed while watching the Olympics sandwiched between my stoned curly haired boyfriend and his even more stoned and curlier brother was that these athletes encapsulate all the components of what makes a person good in bed.
These are of course: stamina, endurance, strength and flexibility. All qualities that no one could complain about a partner having. The interesting thing is that many of these women are seen as less than sexual beings. It seems that our generation are more inclined to drool over images that Kim Kardashian tweets of her cellulite infested body between stuffing her face and crying over her sex tape than those of women in peak physical condition.

The problem is that although these athletes bodies appear to be toned and perfected to all their abilities, it seems that with this physique comes masculine connotations. Whether it is the case that we are more accustomed to seeing men boasting muscles and therefore are not used to seeing these facets on a woman or it truly is unnatural for women to take these forms is the question in this case. It could be suggested that men find it intimidating for a woman to be of equal or greater strength than them, thus emasculating them in the bedroom but for all men that I've spoken to who do pride themselves on their exercise routine they could only respect and relate to a woman who takes the same care.

While women have been expected to fulfil a certain expectation of soft curves and ample assets from the times of Alphonse Maria Mucha's work all the way to Marilyn Monroe, it seems that while times are changing anyway with the plague of size 0 women; I can't imagine why we wouldn't favour some muscles instead of curves, especially if there is nothing else there. After all, I'm sure that Katie Taylor could show you a better time in the bedroom than Katie Price...even if you did lose a few teeth in the process.

So when it comes to sexercise, what can we learn from these Olympians?
Of all the complaints that I hear from my friends about their sex lives, I always tend to hear a few patterns. Some guys get too tired halfway through the race, others can't keep their javelins up and in some cases it seems that while Usain Bolt may be impressive on the tracks, not many girls want the fastest man in the world in bed with them. Although to be fair 9.63 seconds is something I haven't heard of since my secondary school days..

It seems that the lesson to be learnt here is that everyone has a little something to work on that can be learnt from the Olympic athletes. No one can expect to perform well when they've been eating badly, lacking on practice and are out of shape. The problem is that without millions of people watching, there isn't quite enough pressure for anyone to care. I'm not suggesting that you invite your friends and family over to watch you play handball with your man, but you get the gist.

Whether you can learn a little something from the girls putting their legs behind their ears, or the men with the strength to endure for hours on end there's got to be something to gain while we're cooped up watching the only thing that's been on TV more consistently than Friends. If there's nothing to learn, then you can at least just perv on the German competitors in their tight shorts like my mother does. Whatever works.


I hope you enjoyed this read :)

Olivia Jane

xx