During the Stevie Wonder pre-game concert, one of India.Arie's backup singers burst a dress strap. Did you see her, in the bright yellow dress? Bless her, she clutched at her shoulder and danced her little heart out for the rest of the number. I'm guessing, though, that at this point Super Bowl officials at least inspect their personnel for nipple jewelry. She probably was wearing a family-friendly support bra. A demi-cup at the very worst.
(Aside: Why do I feel stupid typing the "dot" in India.Arie? If that's your marketing gimmick, more power to you; but must you involve me as an accomplice?)
I will admit that my pre-game watching was spotty. I have never, ever been able to resist an airing of "Miss Congeniality" on TBS, and I'm not going to start now.
There seems to be no real equivalent to the pre-Oscars red carpet ritual to grab me. Instead, there were inspiring tales of young people overcoming disabilities. I tend to skip those features in People magazine, too.
One bright spot: I loved the Temptations-esque backup dancers for John Legend. I loved them beyond reason. Maybe if they had those guys on the sidelines, spinning in unison next to the cheerleaders, more women would be football fans.
The introduction of MVPs from Super Bowls past was a little depressing to me. Did anyone else feel that Joe Namath resembled "The Godfather's" Moe Green? And as all the champs paraded onto the field, I couldn't help but notice: They were limping.