Graduating College Feels A Lot Like Going Through Puberty

Take yourself back to middle school. You’re awkward, unsure and uncomfortable in your own skin. Maybe you had braces, bangs, an overbite, or acne.

Your parents sat down with you and had a conversation reassuring you that you wouldn’t always feel this pressure to constantly fit in, and that things get better. They told you that now is the time where you’re coming into your own and figuring out who you are and all those raging hormones can make things very complicated.

You probably found yourself wandering between classes wondering where you’d end up and excited that life would one day be bigger than the walls of your educational institution and now, as you enter adulthood, you know that life is certainly bigger than middle school.

But one thing that hasn’t changed for many of us recent post-graduates is the fact that we still don’t know who we are.

You have just completed college and already started a first job, yet you find yourself still treading water in a whirlpool of identities when you thought at this point in time you’d be swimming laps in the Olympic pool.

Our once raging hormones are most likely tame, but have now been replaced with racing thoughts and raging doubts.

What used to be comparing your growing body to your peers’ in the gym locker room has shifted to us flocking to social media to find reassurance in our decisions, only to find that with every scroll, double tap and refresh, we feel worse.

“Should I be doing something else?” You wonder. Did you make a mistake not taking the GRE? Was majoring in political science the best option for you? Should you have saved up more before moving out?

The infinite ways you could think about the what ifs, the could ofs and should ofs are enough to drive you insane. In fact, you may actually think you are already at that point.

Upon graduation, many of you may have had yourselves figured out and maybe you really do. Well, good for you because you’re the exception and the rest us are the rule.

Many of us now find ourselves endlessly scouring the job boards, reading description after description and thinking, “This is a great fit!” Until you keep scrolling just a little further, and find yourself wondering if you could actually see yourself doing it full time.

You begin to wonder if your career goals from the beginning of college still hold true for you now and replay the mistakes you made in your most recent interview. Many of your resumes are answered with silence and you begin to question if you’ll ever end up at the job of your dreams. You’re finding that answering the question, “Where do you see yourself in five years?” Is tough because you honestly have no idea.

The disheartening feeling is similar to when you first start developing a chest and think you’re ready to move up a bra size, only to realize that you’re still very much a 32AA, but you know what? It’s O.K.

It’s alright to admit that developing yourself takes time and that your initial idea of who you are may change 1,000 times before you get it just right. You didn’t just wake up one day and have round hips or a deeper voice did you? No, so why should this chapter of your life prove to be different?

As an adolescent, every day you grew a little taller, your face got a little thinner, your body, unfortunately hairier. The thing is that you didn’t necessarily see it happening.

It just happened and that is how I presume you come into your own and figure out what you truly want.

Each day you age you’ll have less doubts, a better idea of what interests you and stronger intuition about how to get yourself to the place you want to be.

Have you ever looked back at old pictures of your awkward, lanky self and laughed? You probably have and you laugh because you remember all the very absurd worries you had at that point in time.

You worried you’d be the last girl to get her period, or embarrassed to be the only boy whose voice hadn’t gotten deeper, and you think how silly those worries were because everything turned out just fine.

You were having those ridiculous thoughts 10+ years ago and I bet almost anything that in 10 years time you will look back at a picture of your newly graduated self and think two things: 1. Why was I wearing that? 2. I can’t believe I spent so much time worrying.

So you graduate college and your parents sit you down and tell you that things won’t always be this hard. You don’t have to feel this constant pressure to fit in because social media is a choice and you can avoid comparing and contrasting if you’d like.

They’ll tell you that everything works out and that you’ll come into your own but it can take some time. The only thing making it harder is all those raging doubts. The major difference here is that in middle school we could not control our hormone levels, but in our present situation, we can control our doubts.

Replace the doubts with words of encouragement. If you can make it through puberty, you can make it through anything.

Hello Instagram, It’s Me & I Don’t ‘Like’ You Anymore

In September of this year I returned from a 3-month long trip in Europe. I came back because I could only pretend to be care free for so long before I ran out of money and needed a job. At the end of the day I had to admit that unfortunately, food is essential.

Throughout my travels I found myself taking loads of pictures. Some of these were for myself, but mostly, they were for the 476 people who I don’t really know.

After Essena Oneil made her announcement of quitting social media last week, she reaffirmed that I was not alone in my feelings towards social media.

I’m going to be brutally honest about myself here in the hopes that other people can know that they are not alone. Social media can make you feel like absolute and total crap. How do I know this you ask? Because it often makes me feel that way.

Getting likes on Instagram literally made me feel good about myself. It validated that what I was doing was cool, accepted and great, that is until I refreshed the page and saw someone else doing something cool, acceptable and great. My feelings of success were only as permanent as the moment my picture was in the spotlight, and soon faded once I was forced to compare it another individual’s.

You can say this is merely insecurity and perhaps you are correct, but would I really be feeling insecure if I no longer was part of a system that made me compare, compare, compare and then contrast, contrast and contrast some more?

If I didn’t get more than 50 likes, I would feel as though I failed or came up short. As if I studied for a test that I was supposed to get an A on but only received a B+. “But this picture was so cool,” I would think, “Why don’t more people like it?” It made me question how socially well-liked I was and subsequently, made me question myself.

When I share a picture of myself rescuing a sea turtle and it gets 50 likes, but someone is super beautiful and receives 4,000 likes, things get placed into perspective. It makes you feel like what you have done or do will never be enough.

When someone doesn’t post what they’re doing in the social media spotlight many of us often assume that they are not having fun, not successful or not existing. What I realize is that those people have it right. They are the ones existing far more than you or I because instead of captioning images, scrolling through feeds and hitting refresh, they are physically living a life instead of just sharing one.

How in the moment can I really be if I document my life according to what other people will be impressed with. What happened to just feeling good enough on my own?

I’m not going to delete my Facebook because that’s how I connect with those who are far away, but today, I’m breaking up with Snapchat and Instagram because I’m tired of feeling a constant pressure to impress people that I honestly don’t even fucking know anymore.

Do I care that that girl from my English class freshman year liked my photo? Do I need to see the inside of the office of that guy who I haven’t spoken to in four years and how TOTALLY AWESOME HIS JOB IS? No.

If anything, the ability to connect with millions has taught me that I really only need to connect with a few. The most important feedback is from those who know me, love me and want the best for me.

In a society where we are all so eager to showcase our individuality, we readily jump on the opportunity to “follow” other people. Can someone please explain that to me because it quite literally makes no sense.

How will a stranger’s ‘like’ ever make me feel like I’m REALLY doing something.

Don’t say you want to live for the moment when you claim you “do it for the insta.”

Do it for yourself because otherwise, it doesn’t really matter at all then does it?

The Real Translation of “I Literally Can’t”

Being able to speak more than one language is probably one of the most impressive things you can do. You may have tried to even to do this by attempting to learn Spanish in the 8th grade, only to find that you failed miserably at it.

Nonetheless, every time someone asks if you can speak another language you will (without fail) let them know, “Un poco.” Hey, at least you tried.

I’m not fluent in anything besides English, and unless very intoxicated, mi espanol es no bueno.

However, I have been #blessed with the ability to translate the ever-popular and female associated phrase, “I literally can’t.”

Now I know that this phrase is looked down upon, mocked and not taken seriously, but I would like to shed some light on it by offering the translations.

Honestly, it’s completely applicable to almost any situation and it can also mean 800 different things.

Seriously, kudos for being versatile.

Location: Frat Party

“I literally can’t with him”

Translation 1: You’re annoyed because he’s ridiculous. He said he was into you the other day and now is purposefully ignoring you. You can see he read your latest text. HE READ IT.

Translation 2: You’re so frustrated right now because you and Pat hooked up last week but now he’s acting like this is the first time you’ve met…

Translation 3: He’s so funny, sometimes you don’t think anyone else could make you laugh as much as him, but you’re saying this to demonstrate exaggeration and an over-dramatic effect.

Location: Sunday Brunch

“I literally can’t even with that picture.”

Translation 1: You have just seen an Instagram of someone you dislike and this picture is irritating. You never want to see it again, thanks.

Translation 2: You have just spotted a tragic image of yourself floating around the Internet and you are totally appalled that you allowed yourself to look that disheveled.

Translation 3: You have replayed a Snapchat story only to find that Jessica lied about not going out last night. Not pleased.

Location: Class

“I literally can’t even right now.”

Translation 1: You have zero idea about what the professor has been saying this entire class and now  really can’t decide if you should get the notes or just let it go, but mostly you want to let it go because this class sux.

Translation 2: It’s raining outside and your hair looks like you rolled around in a dumpster and forgot to brush it. You don’t want to be in this class but also don’t want to walk back to your apartment in this.

Translation 3: You are about to hand in the worst excuse for an essay ever and it’s straight up giving you anxiety. ANXIETY.

So instead of seeing this phrase as something that’s merely annoying, think about the ambiguity and mystery that’s wrapped into one phrase. Exciting stuff.

Ice Ice Baby: 7 Signs You Really Hate The Winter

Hating the cold is not something you just woke up and realized one day. No. You have always hated it. You absolutely dread watching the leaves dying and falling off the trees, exposing the branches and all their nakedness. It only means one thing: you’re next.

Winter is like that clingy friend that just never gets the hint; it always comes back and you have to deal with it. Sure, some people love the winter, but if you’re reading this, chances are, you aren’t one of them.

Once the winter months come storming through, you will mentally prepare yourself with excuses to go into hibernation. The gusts of wind cut your face and make you shiver. There are even moments where you consider buying a full face mask, you know the kind that robbers wear, just to brave the cold.

The only time you enjoy the cold is when you’re inside, and thinking about how nice it is not to be outside. We hate the winter for a million reasons, but here’s 7 that remind you just how much mother nature can suck:

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1. Layers Make You Claustrophobic

Fall was really fun. You really liked wearing cute skinny jeans with riding boots and a loose sweater. Sure, it’s not as free as shorts and a tank in the summer, but it was still nice.

Now that a polar vortex is upon you, you realize that being cute can no longer be a priority, unless you want to freeze to death. You try not to gag a little when you realize your heavy down jacket, thick leggings and boots will be the three main items of your wardrobe this season.

2. Seasonal Depression

Cold weather makes you sad. Vitamin C from the sun makes you happy. No one wants to be outside in the sun if the air is 34 degrees Fahrenheit, with a windchill making it feel like 10 degrees.

You feel confined to your living space because you’d rather remain in your warm box than venture out into the tundra that we call the outside. Thus, you are sadder.

3. You Never Want To Go Outside

Going outside would require some serious will power, and a desire to expose yourself to the elements. No thank you. You’d rather not risk frostbite. Instead, you prefer to create a nest inside your bed where you make yourself into a cocoon and binge watch Netflix.

Leaving the warmth of your bed is a fate worse than death, and no, you’re not exaggerating.

4. Your Nose Is ALWAYS Cold. Always.

There is no way to keep your nose warm, there just isn’t. It’s cold at night, it’s cold in the day. Your only method to make this better is to sleep with the covers pulled slightly over your face, but even that makes you feel like you’re suffocating a bit. Another reason why cold is a cruel act by mother nature.

5. You Count Down The Days Until Summer

The second you feel the slightest chill in the air, you’re already wishing it was summertime.

“Why do the seasons change so fast!? Summer! Summer, can you hear me?! Please come back, Summer. I’m so lonely and cold without you. I need you. I’ll do anything to see you again. I’ll appreciate you like you deserve this time, Summer!”

You longingly look at the calendar on your phone or laptop and wish that you could move through the months quicker in order to feel warmth on your skin, once again.

6.The First Snow Makes You Cry

You gaze out your window and watch the snow fall from the sky, and ask yourself why this has to happen. You just don’t understand, “What is the point, nature? Why must you freeze me and make my tears turn to ice?”

7. Winter Sports Are Your Personal Hell

People who tell you how excited they are to ski, snowboard, or anything involving activities outside confuse you. It is generally very hard for you to understand how it’s possible to enjoy below freezing weather and play games in it. Why would you do that to yourself, why?

Part of you truly wonders if people who enjoy the winter are really human. There’s just no way it’s possible to thrive in this kind of weather, right? Right.

Why Kim Kardashian’s Butt Makes Me Sad

I always swore I’d never write about her, but here I am, writing about her. Ugh, I hate myself a little bit right now, but there’s a greater purpose here, I promise. I know we have all seen the infamous, “Break The Internet” picture, but if you somehow live under a rock, here it is:

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Before I go further, I have to say that her ass in this picture legitimately frightens me. No, I’m not jealous. I’m not trying to body shame her. She is a gorgeous woman, just not in this disgustingly edited photograph because IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO LOOK LIKE THIS.

I would honestly be concerned and troubled as to how the laws of physics and gravity worked on that woman’s body if I thought this picture was real. However, this screams Photoshop. The picture features Kim Kardashian’s butt with a small guest appearance by Kim Kardashian’s face. Now, it is a bit odd to say (openly) that someone else’s buttocks makes me sad, but it does. This edited image is a bigger symbol of what unrealistic expectations the media has created for our society, and it’s nauseating.

Kim K looks like how Photoshop wanted her to look. The viral photo is disturbingly disproportionate and everyone knows it. SHE even knows it. It makes no biological sense to have a waist that tiny with a butt that large, it just doesn’t. It’s viral photos like this that get captioned, “best body ever” or “sexiest women alive,” is she the sexiest women alive? To some yes, to everyone? No. Can I see those statistics and who are your sources?

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EVERYONE has a different definition of what the “best body” is, the media’s just so happens to be a cartoon character.

I honestly would have never known that an ass could get so much hype, it literally poops, everyone. It literally poops. But then I hear guys talking about it and they’re all, OMG LOOK AT DAT ASS IT’S SO FAT I WANNA BURY MY HEAD IN IT, and I’m just thinking yeah do you…because it poops, so I’ll pass. Also, I don’t think I would ever want a man to bury his head in my butt, BUT if I did, I bet you he still would even if my butt was tiny. Which I’m proud to say it is.

I’ve already encountered my fair share of sexism, bodyshaming, and the fabulously unrealistic male expectations fueled by the media. We all watch as our guy friends or boyfriends attempt to discretely, or not so discretely, drool over the magic creatures that are the Victoria’s Secret models, or gaze admiringly at Kim K’s tush. Yes they are beautiful, but for most of us, it’s unrealistic. I will never look like that, and I shouldn’t have to feel bad for not looking that way either.

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The media makes us feel bad for not looking like a Photoshopped magazine cover. We should not feel bad about ourselves because we didn’t decide to inject fat from our stomachs into our butts. We should not feel bad for not happily volunteering to have our own noses broken so they can be shaped into “cuter noses.” We should not feel so badly that we pay thousands and thousands of dollars to surgically alter ourselves into SOMEONE ELSE’S idea of beautiful.

There are women in Burma who wear fitted rings around their neck to make their necks longer because in their society a long and giraffe-like neck is beautiful. We see these women with their long necks and act so shocked and scared. Yet, here we are, in a society where I could decide to hop up onto a surgical table and have implants put into my chest because guys will think I’m sexier, and everyone acts like that’s just A, OK. Are you kidding me?

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We’re told that we have to have big breasts, but tiny waists. We’re told to have a fat ass, but skinny legs. These expectations are not just for women though, men are also affected. They’re told they have to have a six pack, muscular arms, chiseled jaws, piercing colored eyes, and big penises. Who decided that these were the “must haves” because light yourselves on fire, they’re not.

Also, did anyone tell Kim that the Internet still works?

Black Friday Is The Ultimate Contradiction

The end of November means Thanksgiving is approaching, and it’s one of my favorite holidays because um, food…and family and friends too.There’s nothing quite like a buffet of food and people you love surrounding you to be reminded of all the things to be grateful for. You can’t be ungrateful when you’re busy thinking of all the potential names for your food baby.

We spend the day remembering why we’re so lucky and to be thankful for all we have in our lives; it’s a serious day of self-reflection that tastes good. We spend the whole day preaching and recognizing our happiness and being satisfied. Yet the next day is the biggest contradiction of the entire year: Black Friday.

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Black Friday confuses me. Didn’t we just spend the entire day saying how happy we were with our lives, and how family and friends are more important than trivial things? Yeah, we did. But then midnight arrives and everyone acts like the world is legitimately coming to an end and all hell has broken loose.

Hours earlier, people were acknowledging how blessed they were, and now, they’re stampeding each other at the local Walmart because of a TV. There are a ton of news stories every year about people transforming themselves from humans into animalistic-barbarians whose only priority in this world is to get an iPad mini for 30 dollars less than the original price. It’s kind of like the real deal of Animorphs combined with appliances and electronics.

I don’t know about you, but I personally, would rather not get curb stomped, charged with assault and battery or lose a limb and just pay full price. Hey, maybe I’m just high maintenance. Sure, I know you can definitely get some serious deals on Black Friday, and props to the retailers for coming up with this sadistic holiday twist, they’re making millions.

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But come on. Can we at least wait 48 hours after Thanksgiving to act like we’re in a real life version of The Purge? We owe ourselves that much. The retailers really have us by the balls here; they just sold millions in food, dining ware and decor, specifically for the holiday where we tell ourselves, “I’m so happy, I don’t need anything else!”

Then the same retailers turn around and basically say, “JK, your life is meaningless, come and buy more things so that you can be even happier!” That’s corporate America for you.

Seriously though, take time this year to be content with the little things and then if you really realize you’re not satisfied, it’s definitely fair game to risk your life for the new XBOX. Happy Thanksgiving!

WTF: Three Times Your College Manipulated You

When I went to college I was sold on the idea that I would be given an opportunity to learn things I was actually interested in and be treated like an adult. I think many of you can agree that time at university, while can be fun, has proven to be one big, manipulative lie, and here is why:

You come in with a mostly open-mind, and ready to take classes that excite you. However, your first meeting with your academic adviser proves that no one really cares what interests you because you have to take classes you don’t give two sh*ts about. You want to be a communication major? Oh, that’s great! You have to take two sciences, and three math classes first! LOL cause that makes sense!!

Excuse me, degree factory? I will never need to know calculus, biology, earth science or statistics to be a successful PR professional but thank you so much for not giving me the option to pay for those credits! You rule!

You then spend hours agonizing over how boring these general requirements are. Didn’t you go to high school to skip this part? Why are you taking a writing class, AGAIN. Last time I checked, at 18, I knew how to correctly format an essay, but instead I got an additional class that told me that my essays needed an intro, body paragraphs and conclusions. Whew! Thank God for that class, or else I would have forgotten what my other ten years of schooling had taught me! Money well spent.

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Each school is different and grades according to different standards. My university grades based on how much hell they can put you through without actually killing you, because duh! They can’t get money if you die! Our grades are deflated, which is total B.S. So if you get an A, they give you a B+ and if you get a B+ you are given a B, that’s efficient right?

This negatively impacts any of us that want to further our own education beyond undergraduate. It puts us all at a significant disadvantage because we look way less competitive than everyone else. Why should we be penalized for working just as hard, if not harder than others, by receiving worse grades? Oh and don’t forget, you get to pay to be put at the disadvantage which totally rocks!

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College degrees come with a large price tag, and if you weren’t given a scholarship and financial aid, say hello to your new worst enemy: Student LOANS. They are the best! You now get to be put in thousands of dollars of debt, that often cost more than your first years salary. Yeah, who’s pumped for that!? I know I am!

This degree will probably be the most expensive piece of paper you ever invest in, and you’re basically told that if you don’t do it, you won’t be successful. The academic system milks us for money we currently are not even worth simply because they know that they can.

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My question is this: If people want to educate themselves, why is it made to be so goddamn difficult? Colleges preach and preach about how they care about students and want to make them successful. HAHA, do you? Making it nearly impossible to achieve a competitive GPA without sacrificing your social skills, draining you of income you’ve yet to make, and forcing you to take classes that make you want to take your eye out with a spoon does not sound like the way to create successful individuals.

It sounds like a way to make us resentful of the academic system. So instead of asking us for more money each year for sports fields, dining halls, and whatever else you pretend to need. STOP EXPANDING. You have billions of dollars. Take that money and invest it wisely and stop being greedy.

Invest it in US or GTFO.

The Four Stages of Your College Hangover

It’s a tale as old as time, and similar to the cycle of life, it never ends. We tell ourselves we won’t ever drink Vodka again. We swear on our lives that, that’s the absolute LAST time we ever get that drunk on Tequila. Still, the next weekend we find ourselves bent over, praying to our porcelain goddess and BFF at the time: the toilet.

There’s just something about being drunk that us youths can’t seem to shake, but the next day we almost always regret the night before. Should we have taken that shot of fireball at the bar? Probably not. Did you need to buy that vodka soda after you already had six shots? Ehhh, not so much.

You will enjoy it thoroughly at the time though, and that’s what matters most. However, tomorrow when you wake up, you will regret ever drop of alcohol you let slide down your esophagus, and this is how your hangover will play out:

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You open your eyes, your vision is still blurry and mixed with sleep or lack there of. Why did you fall asleep with the light on? That’s weird. You also don’t remember changing into these sweats, but you’ll take it.

And holy crap, you’re so thirsty. Your mouth is dryer than the Sahara desert. Must.Get.Water.Now. Your cotton mouth is off the charts and no matter how many sips you take of water, you can’t quench your thirst.

“What time did I get back? How did I get that drunk? I swear I didn’t even have that much to drink.” But you did, and you know it. Your liver is weeping, say you’re sorry. No, like you mean it.


You find the courage somewhere deep inside yourself to get up from the bed. You can do this. Sitting upright feels like a victory. Olympic medalists have nothing on you. The second you make it to a vertical position that’s when someone starts playing drums inside your skull. Fantastic.

The pounding is so bad and mixed with your severe dehydration you don’t think you can move another foot. “I HATE VODKA, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU VODKA,” you think to yourself as you attempt to swallow some Advil.

More Suffering

Just when you think your headache is dulling, and you no longer feel like a camel that has gone weeks without water, that’s when it hits you: the nausea. Oh sh*t. WHY!? WHY ME!?

You will run to the bathroom and if you’re lucky you’ll get something out and if you’re not so lucky… you will sit on your floor gagging on nothing but air and water, and wishing you could go back in time, and punch yourself in the face before you took another drink.

Ready To Go

Now that you have wasted your entire Saturday wallowing in self-pity, fatigue and disgust, you start to feel better. It’s around 4:30-5 pm and you realize you accomplished absolutely nothing today except pay for your sins of making bad choices.

“Never again,” you tell yourself, “never again.” But now it’s nearing dinner time and your friends are all discussing their Saturday night plans. You don’t want to feel left out…ugh fine, you guess you could go for one more night out. You’ll just pace yourself this time, right?

Why Being Beautiful Does Not Mean You’re Entitled To Anything

There is a very widespread and common misconception in our society that if you are beautiful then you are more entitled. This is heartbreaking and so far from the truth. Chances are if you are now in your 20s and have had access to a mirror at some point, you know what you look like. There is nothing wrong with knowing and acknowledging the way you look.

Some people are more attractive than others. That’s it, that’s life. However, some people choose to go above and beyond simply acknowledging their attractiveness. Instead of realizing that your looks are merely one part of who you are, some choose to believe that their looks define who they are as a human. No, no sweetheart.Take a seat and let me break this down for you.

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First of all, being beautiful is all thanks to your parents. You have done absolutely nothing special or extraordinary to contribute to your facial structure, so yeah. If you were made the old-fashioned way, then your parents had sex and a sperm with fabulous genetics merged with an egg that also had fabulous genetics. FYI there were a million chances in there that you could come out looking like a troll, so don’t get all high and mighty because hot sperm and a hot egg found each other. It was LUCK.

If you are beautiful then things will come easier for you and that’s just the sad, honest truth. You’re more likely to get a better job and people generally respond more positively to a beautiful person in comparison to one who is not. Fine, that’s biologically based, but to walk around like you sh*t bricks of gold is absolutely absurd.

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Being beautiful does not mean you can treat everyone around you like they are worthless. Newsflash, your looks WILL NOT I repeat WILL NOT last. Unless you find the fountain of youth, you will get old and will not be beautiful forever. You will get wrinkles and age like we were designed to do, and what then?

How do you think everyone around you will respond to a mean, old person who treats others poorly? Um, not well, and you know what else? If you treat people poorly now, they probably don’t care that you’re “pretty” they probably just think you’re an asshole.

I have encountered so many young woman who truly believe that their self worth lies in their attractiveness and it’s so sad. I, myself, used to be guilty of this in high school, and it’s really sad, but it’s also not just an individual decision. The media reinforces these beliefs. We’re told that if we look pretty that guys will like us, that being beautiful means you’re better than others, and that drives this entire messed up ideology.

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Being beautiful means you got lucky, but being a decent person? That’s a choice. At the end of the day and at the end of your time here, all you will have is your memories and how you treated people. Unless you have been lobotomized, chances are, you will feel poorly about yourself if you treat people badly, and no one will miss you because of how pretty you were. People are missed because of how big their hearts are, and how kindly they treat other human beings.

So wipe that smirk off your face and get down off your high horse. We get it, you’re good looking, so are a million other people. What makes you different? Seriously, though? Are you funny, a good writer, great a math, what? There are so many more important and rewarding things that make you a human being than how attractive you are. Yes, you have nice facial features but tell me why that makes you a good person, a good friend or a good human? It doesn’t.

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Attractiveness is a superficial standard and quality that provides no purpose to your existence, so don’t treat people like absolute crap because you’re no better than anyone. If anything, if you treat people badly, you’re below them. When women talk about other women, many times the first thing they say when they don’t like the person is, “Whatever, I’m prettier than her.” And, maybe you are and maybe you aren’t, but does that really make you feel better?

Maybe temporarily, but in the long run you will be valued for how kind your words were, how funny your jokes were and how intellectual your thoughts were. So stop being a giant douche because you think you’re pretty and start being a human being.

Cause I’m Out Here Grindin’

Whether you’re single, in a serious relationship or just doing you, everyone likes to go out to the bars and clubs to dance and mingle. In this day and age it seems that girls wanting to dance with their girl friends is now seen as an open invitation for random guys to hump them from behind. Unless you ask someone to “grind” I’m not sure of anyone who enjoys being an unwilling participant in your search for a human hand job simulator.

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If a guy asks me to dance, sure I’ll definitely dance with them, but lately I feel like the club scene has gotten progressively more repulsive when it comes to dancing. When I go out, I go out to spend time with my friends, not to get dry-humped by a middle-aged man, that’s only for special occasions. I don’t think it’s asking too much for guys to realize that just because I’m grinding on my best friend does not mean I’m inviting you over to rub your boner all over my back-side. Please take your half-flaccid male parts as far away from me as possible.

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I feel like it always starts the same. There is some EDM track playing that probably involves cliche phrases like, “fade into darkness” and “we can just run these red lights,” so deep. Anyway, the music is going and you’re happy to be out with your friends just drinking and dancing, having a good time. All of a sudden in the midst of your girl’s night you feel someone abruptly grab your waist and thrust their pubic bone into your butt. No. When did it become socially acceptable to simulate an intimate version of doggy-style on the dance floor? Whatever, I get that it’s a generational thing and it’s one thing to grind with a guy, but I’m not talking about just casual grinding. I’m talking about the guys who think that you two have just made a silent consensual agreement to have sex on the dance floor, except you never agreed to it. This man is not well. Before you know it, things have spiraled out of control and this guy has no intentions of stopping. When someone doesn’t even ask and just starts attempting to have sex with your back bone that’s where I need to draw the line, at least take me out to dinner first.

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First of all, why you want to rub yourself into my body that is covered in either denim or polyester is weird enough, I thought guys preferred the real deal or their hand, perhaps fabric is the next big thing. How innovative. The fact that guys think women actually want this to happen is a whole other issue. Last time I checked we were not in an MTV music video and I did not sign up to help you get yourself off in this bar.

The worst is when you nicely decide to tell the guy you don’t want to dance and walk away but he proceeds to follow you around ALL NIGHT LONG. This kind of guy is usually profusely sweating and wearing a muscle t with some trashy graphic that says, “Have you seen Molly?” or “Sex, Drugs & Dubstep.” This guy should have been refused from the bar for wearing a shirt that tragic. He then will try and dance with your butt in a way that resembles someone having a seizure or a slight epileptic fit, it’s not cute. You will then shake your head, nervously giggle and walk away. This guy will keep following you all while he is simultaneously sweating and seizing, skillful. He may or may not then try and lure your butt crack back to his perspiring body by offering to get you a drink. Do not accept this drink. This man wants to hold you hostage. He’s the serial killer of the bar. The guy that wants to grind the crap out of you until you drop. There are only so many polite ways you can tell someone to get the fuck away from you before you have to threaten to castrate them, then they usually get it.

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The thing is, is that it shouldn’t get to this level. Women should not have to threaten to remove your manhood or spend their night running away to just dance with friends. If I say to stay away from my butt crack, please stay away. I bet there’s a really drunk 17-year-old who illegally got into the bar and is dying for you to rub her butt crack with your sweaty junk. Unless you can’t speak English or have a certified idiotic IQ, there is no excuse for you to keep literally chasing people around a tavern trying to touch them.