Breathing a Little Heavily

Girls, we may be in love and we may be happily married, we may even think that our husband is the strongest, most charming, one of the most handsome men in the world, but then comes the day when we are faced with a band of fresh-looking Spanish boys in their early twenties, stripped to the waist and performing all sorts of acrobatic acts--hanging upside down and then gliding sideways, twirling their supple bodies in the air as they hang by the strength of mere fingers. Physical exertion makes it so that their muscles are well cut and on grand display. We try to ignore them, but instead find ourselves enumerating, "Trapezius, deltoid, pectoralis major, triceps brachii, biceps brachii, latissimus dorsi, abs..."

When that day comes, we are rendered helpless, really. They urge each other on, "Venga! Venga!" We take this as personal encouragement. We give in, give ourselves license to stare, even salivate a little. One of them bends over. We realize that our earlier list was incomplete. How could we have forgotten it? Glorious, glorious gluteus maximus!