By JAMILA RIZVI
Last Wednesday, I spent the evening talking about feminism with a lingerie footballer. (As you do).
And by the end of the night something very strange happened: I started to forget what my opinion was.
Let me take you back to the beginning. The wonderful folk at Triple J‘s afternoon news and current affairs program Hack, gave me a buzz. They wanted to know if I’d come into the studio and talk about the media’s coverage of women’s sport.
Mamamia recently launched its own dedicated women’s sport coverage, Sport on Saturdays, so I thought it was a good opportunity to do some spruiking and have a bit of debate.
I assumed that I’d be arguing my case against some sports obsessed bogan bloke who was shitty that Serena Williams earns just as much prize money for winning the Australian Open as Roger Federer when she ‘only plays three sets’.
Boy, was I wrong.
In the Triple J reception, I was met by what can only be described as the most formidably impressive looking women ever to have walked the planet. Tall, glowing, broad shouldered, large breasted, smiley, naturally tanned and unbelievably toned and muscular; it was as if an all-female Amazonian tribe had somehow got lost in the Sydney CBD and ended up at the ABC’s Ultimo studio asking for directions.
And I’m not exaggerating for creative effect here. They really do wear underwear: actual push up bras, complete with bows and lace and frills on the panties. They wear this.