Friday, April 23, 2010

Metrosexual tables have turned

The ethereal fairy-like beauty next to me opens her mouth and lets out a burp that'd make windows shatter. It echoes throughout the quad-like rooftop of college, bouncing off the walls, vibrations moving the very concrete we sit on. She muses silently for a while before querying “Do you ever feel like the person you are in your head is not the person everyone sees you as?” Two of us stare at her, surprised, yet in awe of her vocal projection and honesty.

I'm attacked daily for my chipped nail-polish, my vulgarity, my mercenary-like swearing, even my ferociously unfeminine appetite. I have reached a conclusion though- sitting with my girls over a hurried lunch break- one burping, one picking her teeth with her nail, the other sitting legs wide and welcoming, that we are still the ladies we need to be when it's appropriate, but mostly we're all just slobs when it comes to crunch time.

Gentlemen. Never fear, most of us will keep our disgusting qualities to ourselves, you'll never have to bare witness to the profanity of true girl-speak. (shoes, shopping and hair cuts have never come into this type of conversation.) We blurt the unimaginable to each other. We discuss the coarse reality we live with. It gets nasty. We become uncivilised, repulsive even. If only I could crack open this Pandora's box of indecency and show it to the world of men. All bets are on you'd have a lot more respect for the women in your lives, you may even fear us and our boorish speak that'd outshine yours any day. Luckily, this is a feat that will no longer have to be performed- girls like me have been showing ourselves for far too long to backtrack at this stage.

Our friends have been shocked and emasculated by our talents and yet, still, we soldier on- dispelling myths everywhere of little-white-glove-wearing darlings you may think you know. Guaranteed there are a lot of girls who manage to maintain perfection, I applaud you. You wake up every morning, repaint your nails, straighten you hair, lather your face in a swamps worth of gunk, don your pretty-in-pink sweater and set off for your day of mystery-maintaining madness. I must send these girls a warning- you're on the out. We're the new metrosexuals and we're here to stay. Got to go now- i have an evening to get to and need to do my hair.

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