Anatomy of Melancholy?

I don't know what it is about these Olympics, but I'm paying way more attention to physical appearance than I ever did before. Musculature has becoming fascinating to me. I love watching the swimmers stretch before they get on the blocks. Like that Alain Bernard guy, whose facial expression epitomizes "asshole," but who has incredible shoulders. Or Natalie Coughlin, whose seeming sweetness does not hide her muscles. And I'm almost as intrigued by the rituals of the gymnasts, like when they powder their hands for a better grip. Maybe it's just that I'm displacing my desire for the body I long for onto the television screen. For once, I mean. I know there are many people who make that their regular practice. But I have historically been far removed from spectacles of carnality. I should get a medal for "Most Improved Devotion to the Flesh."