It's All Greek to Me

Ah, the Olympics, that wonderful two-week international competition that finds us glued to our televisions each night cheering for our toned, tanned athletes to beat the pants off those enormous eastern European competitors with names like Sven and Svetlana. It doesn't matter to us that the competition occurred six hours earlier. No way. We're screaming in our living rooms, hoping that the guy in lane five (who you can barely see from the water showering from his backstroking arms) will kick the guy in lane six's ass. Hurrah for brotherhood, for international sportsmanship and, of course, the opportunity to really stick it to the French and Germans.

I love the Olympics and, throughout the next two weeks will probably watch more gymnastics and diving than baseball. (I know! It shocks me too!) But as I watch these extremely fit and mostly good-looking people compete, I'm plagued by an age-old question. No, it's not how female gymnasts tolerate those awful wedgies when they're prancing around on the balance beam. This is important--a conundrum that has confused countless humans since the beginning of time: Why in God's name do men have nipples?

You may laugh, but you've thought about it too! I know you have! Those male swimmers or drivers stand poised on the edge of the aptly named Olympic-size pool and as they reach their hands above their head and stick out their chests for their entry into the water, they throw those nipples in your face and suddenly, you fixate on them. It's like a car accident--you know you shouldn't stare because you're slowing traffic behind you, but you can't help it. You keep looking at the TV, hoping for the shot to change, but up and down the row of male swimmers it's nothing but nipples, nipples, nipples. Whaaaa!! Dear lord! Make it stop!

Now, men may argue that seeing a woman's nipples is some kind of religious experience tantamount to nirvana. In fact, they probably wouldn't mind seeing more female nip in the Olympics--might make for a more enjoyable two weeks for them, probably. But male nipples don't provide that same kind of entertainment for us girls. In fact, I always just wonder why they even exist. Here's some hot swimmer like Michael Phelps with a totally buff physique--huge shoulders and pecks that just don't stop--but he has these teeny little nipples interrupting that flow of flawless skin. They don't do anything. They just sit there. Insignificant and useless.

One has to wonder what God was thinking when he placed nipples on a man. Was it only to make male and female harmonious opposites of one another (as the Da Vinci Code people would argue)? Or was there some kind of plan for them that just went awry when Adam and Eve gave in to temptation. Were man and woman supposed to share the joy of nursing until Eve ate that stupid piece of fruit and was punished with "much pain in childbearing." Are broken nipples man's constant reminder that he could have provided free nourishment for his child if only he wouldn't have listened to his wife?

If you don't buy into the whole creation thing, then we're left with evolution as an explanation. Once upon a time, did man share the role of human baby bottle? Or, will man one day grow mammary glands and spontaneously develop the capacity to nurse his child while the mother (finally!) gets some sleep?

It's possible that male nipples have some use I just don't know of. Maybe they give a swimmer somewhere to hang his goggles if his hands are full. Or maybe, when connected to moles and freckles on a man's body, they create some kind of hieroglyph that translates into that person's life goal. ("Ah, John, your meaning of life looks like a remote control! Looks like you're just meant to be a couch potato.")

Whatever the male nipple's mysterious purpose (or lack thereof), I wish the Olympic cameras would focus less on the nipple shots and more in other regions (nudge nudge, wink wink). After all, we know what goes on below the Speedo and, as such, can spend less time thinking about its purpose and more time making fun of how small it is.