Put it away, Love

Hello, long time no speak!

I must apologise for my delayed absence from the bloggisphere (I'm not sure if I like this word - thoughts?). Over the last few weeks I've been settling back into crazy busy student life (ok, I've been watching Doctor Who in my jammies and occasionally drinking wine but, to be fair, that pretty much sums up student life). Still, that's no excuse, forgive me, and let's get started, shall we?

Firstly, as I returned to uni, I realised that a couple of my friends here are avid readers of my blog - they're starting me a fan club - how cool is that? One friend in particular is called Percy who was pleading and begging to get a mention. I was like 'Percy, you haven't broken any social boundaries - I have  to stick to the theme!' To which he replied 'Ok' and started going around and feeling up people's faces at a Christian Union BBQ. Now, I know it was on purpose, but you have to admire that kind of dedication to my little blog. Well done, Percy, I salute you. Now, back to business.

Over the last few days we've been having a bit of an indian summer. Apparently it's not an official indian summer because it wasn't cold enough before but, the point is, it's been bloody hot. Today, however, seems to be cooling down the world a bit and, although I love eating breakfast outside on the decking (yes, my student house has decking - suck it, losers!) I for one am glad to see the end of the summer for one reason: no more topless fat guys. 

Now, I know I am the no-social-boundaries super nerd. I know I should be saying 'You don't want to wear a shirt? Don't wear one! Society is trying to keep you down, my brother, fight back with your sweaty man boobs.' However, I think you'll agree the term 'sweaty man boobs' does really argue my point for me - why is it always the biffers who think they are adonises, and yet I never see Tom Hardy wandering the streets of Hatfield shirtless?

I know, I know, men are not there for me to judge and leer after, and this isn't really my point. It's just that after a few days of staring at man flab, my friend Christina was also at the end of her tether and said 'you wouldn't see a girl walking around like that' to which I replied (as Christina is quite a gorgeous looking girl) 'yeah, well, if you did, they'd probably like it anyway.'

Again, you're probably expecting me to fight for the right of women to walk around in a similar fashion,  and I'm all for equality, really, but I reckon this is one social boundary that actually needs tightening. Even if it's a relatively attractive guy walking around without a shirt, it's still somehow unnerving. You know you end up staring where the t shirt should be instead of the face, it's like a car crash, you can't look away. And 9 times out of 10 it's not an attractive man and you really, really want to look away. Really.

Thus, I am issuing a demand (I feel like I have the right to) Menfolk, I don't care how hot it is, and I'm sure it doesn't actually make that much of a difference, I declare that anything from pectorals to thighs must be covered at all times. If we have to keep it in our bras, so do you fellas. Fair's fair.