It all started this summer. I was at the gym back home as part of my resolution to get “bikini body ready” to show all of my Kenyon comrades that I beat the crap out of the “freshman fifteen.” As I’m running on the elliptical and sweatin’ my little heart out, I receive a text from one of my good friends. She wants to start a radio show for our sophomore year. We spend the rest of the summer exchanging ideas, sharing articles, and watching podcasts to get inspired. This is what I need, I whisper, a wholesome sophomore year.
I laugh now at my optimistic summer self. I got back to the ‘bier and the beer, if ya know what I mean. The Keystone, Bullseye, and sad boys smoking outside of my dorm got to me, man. I was back. But tragedy struck. My friend’s and my schedule didn’t line up, forcing me to evaluate whether I really need an opportunity to talk for an hour unfiltered.
Yes, absolutely yes, I do. And with that, Tooch Time is born, every Monday at 3 pm.
My parents were thrilled, my friends horrified. How will I spend the hour? How do I present myself? Do I play Real Estate and Pinegrove, or do I play music that I actually like? Will I plan out what I say and come off sounding thoughtful, or will I flail? Will I accidentally play a song with curse words, or remember to say that you’re listening to 91.9 WKCO in Gambier Ohio?
Only time will tell if my radio show flourishes as much as I have. All I can say is that I’m a different woman. Before, I was timid. I was quiet on the third floor of Olin, refrained from smearing my bagel right in front of the cream cheese. But now? Oh boy. I walk down Middle Path with flare, spill carrots into the cucumber bucket at the salad line, leave my backpack at a Wiggin booth for hours. I’m that girl. And why? I have a radio show now, bitches.