One bold student is sick of the fashion industry’s labels, is taking a stand
When I was a little girl, I was super round. I wasn’t the cute round, though; I was more so just the inconvenient, Augustus-Gloop-from-Willy-Wonka round. Every summer, my mom would order me a new one piece bathing suit from a sad catalog that would usually say something along the lines of “for chunky lil’ ladies everywhere.” But one time they put my swimsuit in the wrong bag and it was labeled — in all bold letters, might I add — ‘BOYS: HUSKY.’
What does husky even mean? It sounds like I will be embracing a beautiful winter dog but ends up being a dig at my love handles? Rude?
A brave student named Chad Tadswick is taking a stand against this weird label.
“On one hand, ‘husky’ is a dog,” Tadswick began. “On the other hand, it’s a raspy, sexy, delicious-sounding voice. You’re telling me there’s a third hand, and on that hand I’m a lil’ tubby-tub? I think not. Call me ‘one beefy boy’ or don’t call me at all.”
Tadswick walks around campus every day in a blinged-out leather jacket that reads, “One Beefy Boy” across the shoulders. He’s owning it and werking it.
“It’s not only women who need body positivity,” Tadswick said. “I want it, too, and it starts with a beefy boy revolution! Huzzah!”
Other “beefy boys” seem to be less-than-pleased with the new label.
“There I was, mackin’ with my new boo, and she tells me that she appreciates that I’m a quote ‘beefy boy’ unquote?” second-year Fred Plank said. “Do I look like a quarter pounder with cheese? No! Do not call me a beefy boy! If anything, I am a beefy man.”
With that notion, Plank flexed his manliness so hard that Donald Trump smiled for the first time since women gained the right to vote. You say he was not alive? False. He has lived forever, in our nightmares.
Even in the face of controversy, Tadswick persists.
“I am a beefy-licious king worthy of a beef-tastic name, and that beefing name is beefy boy, you butts!”
Professors, though impressed with Tadswick’s confidence, are less than confident whenever they have to call upon him during class, as he has refused to respond to anything other than “one beefy boy” or “his royal beefiness.”
“I just… it feels mean? But he wants me to call him that? Am I not up with the kids?” And with that, a professor slowly backed into a corner and combusted into a cloud of anxious smoke.
One thing is for sure: The age of the beefy boys is only just beginning. Look out, dad bods.
Written by: Olivia Luchini — ocluchini@ucdavis.edu
(This article is humor and/or satire, and its content is purely fictional. The story and the names of “sources” are fictionalized.)
