In terms of seasons, the beginning of summer is my worst nightmare, because with summer comes my worst enemy: the ego-inflating bro tank.

Let’s face it. I’m not the most physically intimidating person. Being a runner will do that to you. I, unlike so many of my peers, was not gifted with a strong upper body, receiving instead the much less attractive strong calves and thighs. So I’m forced to cover my scrawny, twig-like arms with a sweatshirt even in the 90-plus degree heat that comes in mid-May and lasts through the end of the school year.

But I digress–when guys strut through the doors of Redwood with biceps resembling those of Greek gods, their egos bolstered to unimaginable heights, my ego, already quite small, goes the opposite way.

It’s the mantra of “sun’s out, guns out” that really gets to me. It’s like the second coming of YOLO, except instead of being a justification for stupid people doing stupid things, “sun’s out guns out” has become the one and only excuse people need to act completely obnoxious and egotistical.

There were times when I thought about buying a bro tank. But then the little voice inside my head knocked some sense into me. Was I going to give in so easily as to willingly pay money to walk around school flashing the arms that haven’t seen a weight rack for over a year? No.

I suppose if I really wanted to, I could go and work out, get “swole.” But why would I want to? So that I could show off my disproportionately large arms as a way to attract a mate? I’ve grounded my beliefs in the idea that large biceps are only part of what women look for in a guy, so I will continue to hone my other qualities in the hope that they will offset my freakishly skinny upper body.

I’d like to say that by not wearing a bro tank I’ve somehow avoided the evolutionary process of the adolescent male. I don’t know, something about exposing half of one’s upper body just seems to have escaped the natural selection process. In reality, the wearing of the bro tank has become something eerily similar to a mating ritual. As boys grow into men, they are stuck in a purgatory known as adolescence, and the only way to gain the approval of those around them is to expose their ridiculously-sized biceps through the use of revealing clothing.

Maybe there’s something about this trend that escapes me. Perhaps there really is a reason behind the wearing of the bro tank. Maybe they’re getting ready for fraternity culture in college. But whatever it is, I can’t seem to find it. I see absolutely no sense in scantily clothing oneself at the behest of society.

If I had to venture a guess, I would argue that those who wear bro tanks do it to keep cool. Sort of like how when summer rolls around, dogs shed their fur. Similarly, when the temperature reaches ridiculously hot levels, the docile human male sheds his winter coat and puts on his bro tank, an alternate piece of clothing that cools off the body while simultaneously heating up the ego.

Whatever people think, I refuse to believe that society has gone this far off the deep end. I would like to believe that we as a society still value intelligence and personality over huge biceps and ego-endorsement.

I could be wrong, but I sure hope I’m not. After all, intelligence and personality are really all I have left. I refuse to give in. I hope society can forgive me.