This year, in an effort to be a little more sensitive to those who might be upset by the images, Sports Illustrated hired me to write Trigger Warnings to precede each photograph:

Trigger Warning:

Viewing of the following image of totally inaccessible supermodel Tanya Mituyshin may trigger traumatic memories of the time you saw high school goddess Marie-Therese Vitzhum in a bikini at a pool party when you were in grade 10. You might recall how out of your league she was and how she seemed like she might have been from Europe, or some angel galaxy that was as far from Ottawa as anything could possible be. You might recall feeling bony, insufficient and pale, watching as she sat piggyback on the shoulders of the muscular Randy Rafter, her breasts pressing against the back of his head as she leaned forward laughing. This image of Tanya Mituyshin could trigger such memories, creating a constant, deeply haunting reminder that you never mustered the courage to speak to MT– as she was known to her friends– and how regardless of the status and success you might achieve, you will always feel like that overlooked and scared 14 year-old boy.

Trigger Warning:

Viewing of the following image of supermodel Hannah Davies may trigger traumatic memories for people who have had difficult relationships with fishing nets in their past. This photograph could spark a deeply repressed memory of the time your friend, as a “prank,” threw a fishing net over you down by the boathouse while attending a cottage party, and instead of fighting to escape from the net, you lay in a fetal position and quietly wept for your mother, certain that you were about to be murdered, as you had always had premonitions of death by fish net.

Trigger Warning:

Viewing the following image of supermodel Gigi Hadid may trigger feelings of profound resentment and homicidal rage in people with a history of despising life in a society where Gigi Hadid, a glittering, young celebrity, is considered an achievable model of feminine beauty. Recollections of unreasonable and cruel demands may flood over you as you navigate the aisles of Shopper’s Drug Mart, your mind flashing red to every cultural message that has ever helped make you feel that you were somehow just not enough. You’re just trying to get some shit done after a long, grinding day behind your desk at the Ministry of Transportation, and then there’s Gigi, smoulder-glowing out at you from the pages of a stupid magazine, and suddenly, before you know it, you’ve kicked the hell out of an entire display stand of kale-and-beet-infused shampoo and punched-out a pharmacist, Club Optima points be damned.

To this day, he never’s beat me. I always dominated Rob on the teeter-totter. Sometimes my mother would ask me to ease up, to let him win one, but I wouldn’t. That’s not the way life works. You gotta suck it up and be tough, and when it’s time to go to rehab, you go to rehab, that’s what it is to be a man. I never gave him a win and I like to think that’s part of what made him the man he is today.

1. Although it doesn’t look like it, I’m nearly 5 years older than Rob, so when we were young I used to command him with my size and strength. I’m a very powerful man. I used to do the shot put in high school.

You might think that’s all about arm strength, but it’s not, it’s core and leg strength, which are a couple of my natural gifts. Anyway, so little Robbie would be on his end, and try as he might, he couldn’t lift me off the ground. His face would be red and he’d be kicking his legs swearing, and then I’d just step off the teeter-totter and the little bastard would break his ass on the ground at a million miles an hour! It was awesome, and it never failed, just like with Lucy getting Charlie Brown to kick the football.

2. Rob was always a pretty chubby kid, so I liked to take off my shirt when I got on the teeter-totter, just to intimidate him. I have to say it worked like a charm because you’d just see this look of defeat, shame and anger wash over his face, and then he never seemed to try as hard.

3. One time, and this was priceless, I was pretending to let Rob beat me, just to get his hopes up. It had been years, he’d lost hundreds of dollars to me, and still, he’d never won. Just as he’s all excited that he’s FINALLY gonna win one, this kid I hired came up behind him and whipped a basketball into the back of his head. Taught him a lesson that day. Your enemies can come from anywhere.

4. When I was a senior in high school and Rob was just a minor niner he had a boner for a girl named Kelly.

One day we went to the park to do some teeter-totter but when I got on “The Plank of Doom,” (that’s what we used to call it) I called Kelly over and got her to sit on my lap. Made out with her. Stuck my hand up her shirt and felt around, too. Rob just forgot about the match and ran over and tried to join in, but I wouldn’t let him, and then he cried and beat up some fairy Chinese kid. It’s the day Rob became a man, I think.