Open jars.
Yet somehow I manage to put jam on the toast I consume each morning while lounging in my underwear (which I call “panties” and must wash by hand because they are nearly as delicate as I am).
Reach anything.
I’m not sure what book I’m looking for, but I know it’s on the top shelf and was written by a man. Unless we’re foreshadowing a dark side, in which case please fetch me THE BELL JAR!
Wear shoes with less than a 3-inch heel.
I’ve always got a bottle of scotch or whiskey on hand to let men know that I’m only girly in ways that won’t annoy them, but it’s going to take more than an extra three inches to reach it, if you know what I mean. (Just kidding! Three inches is really more than enough for my super petite vagina!)
Wear bright colors.
My outfits must be as pleasing to a man’s eye as my body, i.e. nearly invisible!
Be vegetarian or vegan.
If I’m going to be this small AND sexy, I’m definitely going to have to wolf down some meat while a man gets all horned up about it.
Get into bed.
I simply must be picked up and tossed like a doll before I unleash these surprisingly-supple breasts!
Have muscles.
At least not ones that are useful for anything other than lots and lots of missionary, aka the best position for gratuitous lady-nudity AND ONLY lady-nudity.
Be assertive.
Even someone as small as me can’t get away with telling a man that it usually takes more than three minutes for a woman to orgasm, and often more than a penis!
Be emotionally stable.
There’s just something about a tiny woman that screams, “Wait until I lose my shit in Act II!” isn’t there?
Challenge obsolete ideas of masculinity.
Men won’t have to wonder if their antiquated concepts of masculinity are outdated or detrimental to their own well-being… or, like, holding society back, because being petite makes me easy to infantilize! Now excuse me while I go do one of the two man-approved workouts I am allowed: busty yoga or busty jogging!