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Equal education and job opportunities can't take away the fact that I still have tits.



Regardless of the leaps and bounds that were made by second wave feminism towards equality in job opportunities and compensation, we remain women. The previous generation may have had publicly throwing away (not burned) their undergarments in protest of the 1968 Miss America contest, but we as a gender still buy them in various degrees of decoration and support. I'd hazard a guess that most of the women who were in Atlantic City that day, wear something to keep their own breasts under control. For years the only time I put underwear on was right before it was going to come off in front of a camera, or I was going to dance on a go go box.

I had this whole hippie thing going on where I didn't eat meat, eschewed deodorants as unnatural and never wore bras or panties.The only conventionally feminine tendency I had during puberty was a refusal to allow body hair to remain unshaved, because it was itchy. Dried girly juice crusted into my pants didn't bother me and my perky small-end of A-cup breasts didn't jiggle around enough for me to ever need to be taken for my first bra fitting. What was the point in adding a confusing sized and expensive garment to my wardrobe if the support wasn't necessary?

I continued this way through my teens and early twenties until my body remembered it hadn't finished puberty and decided I needed to upgrade to a B-cup. I'm ok with that, bigger boobs are pretty awesome: having a whole handful, possibly visible cleavage without feeling like my chest is the site of a new skyscraper, bouncing around.
Wait, bouncing? Bouncing. Despite all of my refusals to wear perfume, failure at learning how to cook, and determination to move large pieces of furniture all by myself, I am now host to two soft squishy mounds of flesh that need new garments to keep them from making a general nuisance of themselves.

This constant reminder of femininity caused a change in my thinking about gender roles. By no means am I saying we should throw out job opportunities and respect for women as intellectuals, but considering that women have to function around their breasts, bleed from the vagina for 1/4 of their breeding years and are at higher risk for sexually transmitted infections than men are, I think it's absolutely acceptable for men to open doors and do the lifting of heavy things. Men should be encouraged to take more of the responsibility of physically demanding labor on their typically broader and more muscularly developed shoulders. After more than a century of feminism isn't it time to drop the gynocentrism and admit that some women can prefer painting their nails to carpentry without betraying the suffragettes? I still plan on taking my neon pink french manicured fingers down to the voting booth in November and using them to voice my opinion about the next leader of my country.



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