To Sunga or Not to Sunga

So it came down to this. Women of course are used to the idea of a bikini. In Brazil the only difference is that they make the bikinis smaller, if you can imagine that (If you are a man I am willing to bet you will certainly try). For men however, at least those from other countries, the idea of wearing something smaller than your average tighty whitey underpants on a beach seems a little too… flamboyant? No that’s not it. Exhibitionistic? Nope, not that either. Gay? Yep, that’s it. It just seems really, blatantly, flamingly homosexual. Which is of course completely acceptable, if you are in fact gay and trying to attract men. The average heterosexual male in the US, and in many other countries I've been to, would not likely feel comfortable so barely vested.

So what can you do? My friend Curtis, semi-resident Brazil expert, informed me that the locals think men who wear board shorts on the beach look weird. He repeatedly told me the story of the woman he dated, who after several dates asked him “why are your upper legs so white?” He realized he was an uncool gringo, and she ridiculed him for having a strange tan line. After that he got his first sunga. As he told me, it only feels gay if you’re the only one on the beach dressed that way. If everyone has sunga and you have bermudas, well, that’s when you start to feel a little weird.

So trying to keep a straight face, I stepped from the dressing room, while Curtis, his wife, and her female friend Nici looked on. It was a brave effort but I couldn't help giggling because, after all, it was my first sunga. And then they were giggling because it was my first sunga, and I was clearly a little nervous to step out. At least I hope that’s why they were giggling. Anyway, after some shopping around I bought one, and the next day wore it to the beach under some bermudas. When we got to our spot on the beach I busted them out. Nobody cared. "That’s cool," I thought. "Nobody cares."

Whenever a man walked by, Rose, Curt’s Brazilian wife, gave me the cutting play by play as the subject strutted his stuff. Like some Sunga Idol judge she tore the contestants apart, one by one.

"These guys know nothing about the sunga," she said. "Look at the colors they have chosen. Sunga is not the place to go crazy with four different pastel colors. Simple is best."

"Look at that guy!" She laughed out loud. A man walked by oblivious, in a pair of camouflage-patterned speedos. "Rambo Sunga," she laughed, holding her hands over her face to hide her mirth. "Oh, meau Deus, he thinks he is going to war in a banana hammock!"

Another group passed, tanned and well-muscled, wearing flower-patterned skivvies. "All gay," she told me in confidence. "And if they tell you they aren’t its just because they don’t know it yet. You should never wear sunga with flowers."

I was suddenly overcome by the knowledge that the same grueling standards that women use to judge themselves, they also apply to men. I was happy I’d decided on a modest sunga, basic black with a couple of stripes on the side. God forbid I get mangled like that by a bunch of girls while passing. Then again, on second thought, I really didn’t care. The difference between guys and girls of course is that we are more shameless in many ways. I lounge around the house in total comfort in my underwear. If I get to do it in public and nobody hassles me so much the better. The truth is the small bathing suit is much more comfortable. It dries in minutes, instead of chafing your legs half the day with collected wet sand like a pair of board shorts does. They may look weird at first, but all fashion is just a question of frequency of exposure and cultural acceptance. When in Rome and all that. The answer of course, is to sunga.



Here is a picture of the stunning beaches in Morro. What? Were you expecting maybe for me to post a picture of myself in sunga on the internet? What am I, crazy?

posted by goat hill dreamer @ 8:54 AM