Why Girls Have It So Much Harder Than Guys, Written From A Man’s Perspective

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I read a fantastic column yesterday on our sister site, Post Grad Problems, about a hairy dude who got his back waxed. Props to you, guy. I, too, understand the goal of being as hairless as a Filipino child, especially around your disco stick. Personally, I think waxing should be mandatory. Body hair only belongs on ’70s porn stars, old Greek men in wife beaters who accentuate their man boobs, and Robin Williams’ knuckles. Fuck “curtains matching the drapes,” we need to install hardwood flooring, betches.

But the article actually got me thinking in a different direction. I’m not sure if the author, who got his back waxed, did it for a girl (or guy) or did it for his own self-esteem, but frankly, my man, you’re a little late to the party. You’re in your twenties? Girls have been getting waxed since before high school. And before that, they started shaving their legs the minute the hair started growing. It’s, like, once they hit their periods, girls are off to the motherfucking races when it comes to beauty regimens.

It is absolutely insane what girls do to “make themselves look beautiful” for men, especially when they already are beautiful and need to wake up and realize it. Girls wake up extra early to plan the outfits they probably dreamed up in their sleep, because, well, we don’t all have a ’90s iPad that picks out our clothes for us like Cher Horowitz had.

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Once they find the outfit, it’s on to the beauty regimen. You think showering is easy? Try showering with waist-length hair. Washing that shit takes HOURS. Drying? Even longer. Then, of course, once it’s sort of dry, you have to straighten it. Then you put on your outfit and realize you hate it. You change it. Then you change it again. You change it one more time because the outfit you think is perfect now has a stain on it from the Honey Nut Cheerios you spilled on your blouse. FUCK! Now it’s time for teeth: brush, floss, whiten…better whiten again, just in case! Tweeze the eyebrows and the nose hair, then once the hair and outfit are done, it’s time for makeup. Perfect smile–it’s you they’re all waiting for! Isn’t she lovely, this Hollywood girl?

Absolutely not. It’s like putting on fucking warpaint: concealer, blush, powder, foundation, mascara, eye shadow. Fucking eye liner. Seriously. I couldn’t think of anything worse or more scary than that. It’s just too frightening to put something as SHARP AS A PENCIL NEAR YOUR EYES! Your GORGEOUS EYES!!! You only have two of them! At the end of all that, it’s a miracle you don’t look like Harry Crane from “Mad Men.”

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Peek-a-boo, EYE see you! Get it? Haha…eye patch.

And this is just to go to WORK. It’s an average day at the office. Going out? Forget it. Walking around in a bodycon dress must be like wearing a Chinese Finger Trap, especially when you’re rocking those fierce six-inch heels. I don’t know how you ladies do it, honestly. It’s fucking mental.

Guys have it easy. To quote the Messiah Yoncé, if she was a boy, she’d “roll out of bed in the morning, throw on what [she] wanted and go.”

Here’s the question I pose to you today, ladies of TSM: Why do women doll themselves up just to go out in public when men can just sit around the house in their tight, skimpy underwear until 10 minutes before they have to leave?

The double standard just fucking baffles me. I understand that looking fierce and flawless is empowering. Trust me, I KNOW. Glitter makes this bitch feel like she can take over the world, nahh mean? But why should the fact that a woman wants to take a day off, go to work without wearing makeup, put her hair in a ponytail, and wear glasses make her feel ugly? Why should she be judged for looking “frumpy”? Why must people judge that she was hungover–or worse? It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

Guys should WANT to do the same things for their women. Wax their brows, their arms, their chests, their backs. (P.S.: JayTas, CALL ME.) Brush their teeth until they sparkle. Go to the gym and melt off that paunch. Do something with their hair. Get better cologne. Iron their clothes. Throw out their ratty T-shirts and “golf underwear.” Maybe throw on a little concealer. Maybe blush? Who doesn’t love a guy with rosy cheeks?

But more importantly, take the time to appreciate these women and understand what they do for men, just to impress them every fucking day.

Guys need to realize their girlfriends, fiancées, wives, friends, and so on are prizes to be won.

“Pretty hurts, we shine the light on whatever’s worst
Perfection is a disease of a nation, pretty hurts, pretty hurts.”

“Pretty Hurts.” Thanks, Yoncé.

Image via The Georgetown Indy

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New York's Hottest Club is wherever I am. Haters to the front, hunky Sailors to the back. Bow down betches. Follow this bitch on Twitter @StefonTSM

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