It’s a presidential election year, so I shouldn’t be surprised that people are ready to be mad over just about everything they see. But I was really surprised to see my social media feeds flooded with grumpy faces about the Super Bowl halftime show on Sunday.
The ’90s high school girl in my heart was really pumped that Jennifer Lopez and Shakira were teaming up for a performance. I was happy for the football players, too, that they got to perform at Shakira and JLo’s show. That was really nice for them.
The ladies did show up with some classic jams, and I was pleased that Shakira did bring her very honest hips to the performance.
Some people were keyed up about it, but I have to wonder if they even knew who Shakira was before this. A Shakira show without belly dancing and booty shaking is just the Zootopia soundtrack. Look it up.
However, the biggest scandal of the evening was my girl Jenny from the Block with her throw-back Hustlers performance on the pole.
Now, my first reaction was to question how she kept her leotard in place. As a former gymnast I remember my coach telling us not to pick our wedgies even if they crawled into our throats. It’s a secret discipline of gymnasts that few people know. You’re welcome for the insider tip and the visual.
But JLo’s leo defied the laws of nature. It didn’t budge. That right there deserves our respect and attention. So let’s just pause for a moment and realize that she wasn’t wearing anything I haven’t seen on Dancing with the Stars. And I never see anyone get riled up about those nude bedazzled numbers.
My second thought was how impressed I was with her upper body strength and her ability to perform those acrobatics. My kids were playing in the living room during the performance, not clutching a single pearl while the two Latina superstars exploded on screen. My oldest daughter was just waiting for the Chiefs to come back and win it. We still haven’t figured out why she hates the 49ers.
When I first saw the social media outrage, I truly didn’t get it. There were mothers crying out that their wholesome Super Bowl experience was tarnished by the scandalous display on screen.
Girl, this isn’t Charlotte’s Web. It’s dudes smashing each other’s skulls for a pigskin, but go off. Still, I did question why my little angels weren’t as horrified as the 5-year-old boy who allegedly “cried when he saw the performance.”
Then I realized it’s because I’m just raising mine different. My kids get pants-less singing performances on the reg because I jam out to my Lizzo station on Pandora on the daily. And I am nowhere close to the same shape as those ladies, although round is a shape.
And I do not wear pants because it’s my own house, and I’m sorry but I thought this was America.
As soon as I come in the door at the end of a long day I toss my jeans on the bed and I go about my business. Don’t forget to knock and this will never be a problem for you.
At 35 I’m nowhere near as fit as these two over-40 goddesses. I worked out one day last week, and my right quad is so sore a week later that I am Googling things like “Is it possible to break your front thigh?”
But I’m not worried about it because when Truth Hurts comes on I am unapologetically jamming, and my kids have learned to leave the room if they’re offended. Most often they just laugh and join in.
So for those who might argue that I can do that in my own living room, but those legendary entertainers shouldn’t, I say to you, stop being so peanut butter and jealous, love yourself and let these women do what they want to do. They are welcome to join me in my living room, so find a remote if you can’t take the heat of a fiery Latina goddess. Or unbutton those jeans and let those hips catch the rhythm.
Because I can assure you, if for some reason I am able to even climb stairs without pulling a hammy at 50 years old, I might just do it in a sparkly leotard, too. So watch out.