OP-ED: How Can I Be One of the Boys While Still Asserting My Feminine, Delicate Figure?

You know it, I know it, they know it – I am just one of the boys. I start each day by shot gunning a beer, throwing the can onto my unmade bed decorated with navy sheets and stiff socks, and head on down to my 10:15 class at approximately 10:45, where I promptly begin to zone out while objectifying various female classmates in my near vicinity. For lunch, I head on down to Pret where I eat 4-5 of those stupid little refrigerated sandwiches, sit outside, and continue to objectify women as they walk past me on locust. After lunch, I skip my afternoon classes, skip my club meetings, and head on down to chouse where I shotgun 2-3 more beers. I play some pong with the brothers, objectify some more women, and maybe make a few homophobic comments here and there to end the night out. 

What a wonderful life, you might say. What more could you possibility want? Let me tell you, being one of the boys is no simple task. It requires calculated, precise talent and willpower. I can’t just hang with the boys, I have to be one of them. The only downfall? I am no longer my delicate, feminine self. I have lost the dainty mystique that flows through my body like a babbling stream. 

However, I truly believe it is possible to have them both. My fire and ice. My yin and yang. For without one, I cannot fully become the other. I must conquer both my quirky, boyish, relatable self, and my petite, teeny-tiny, hourglass figure. I can be both, and I will be. Next time I’m at chouse crushing some pong with the boys, they will take note not only of my exquisite skill with games involving red solo cups, but also of my beautiful, jaw-dropping, voluptuous badonkydonk with a waist the size of my finger.