The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders are in a state of lovely disarray. There are two minutes to go till halftime, once they’ll carry out an eight-minute routine in entrance of 80,000 individuals at AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas—and 17 million extra on nationwide tv. However they simply acquired again to the locker room from the sidelines. And now, properly, they’ve gotta get able to carry out an eight-minute routine in entrance of 80,000 individuals at AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas, and 17 million extra on nationwide tv.
Two dash proper to the lavatory, leaping over a Smucker’s Uncrustable left on the ground as they go. The remainder whip out their scorching instruments—Dysons, Sharks, T3 wands, and one contraption that I’ve come to imagine is understood solely to the cheerleaders and God himself—and are curling, drying, and teasing with outstanding pace. “Dyson that hair, and name it good!” one shouts to a different, her fake-lash-lined eyes laser targeted on the sport clock. “Ow, ow, ow,” one other cheerleader, Reece, whispers as she forces a comb via strands as soaked with sweat as with hairspray. (One other has no time for brushes: As a substitute, she rips a Velcro star off her uniform, utilizing its sequins to flatten her flyaways.)
