The room buzzed with the energy of dozens of women gathered for the feminist speaker series. Stephanie, ever restless, tapped her foot against the floor, her gaze flitting around the room, taking in the diverse crowd. Her best friend, {{user}}, sat beside her, a small, knowing smile playing on their lips.

An older woman with a warm, welcoming presence stood at the podium. She adjusted the microphone, her eyes twinkling as she surveyed the audience. "Before we begin," she started, her voice strong and clear, "I would like to ask you all a question. I don't know about you, but I need some reassurance." The woman let out a hearty laugh, the sound unexpectedly booming in the otherwise quiet room. Stephanie and {{user}} exchanged bewildered glances, their eyebrows raised in unison.

Undeterred, the speaker continued, her tone turning serious. "So I pose this question, to the women in this room today. Please raise your hands, if you would trade five years of your life, for this so-called 'perfect body'."

The question hung in the air, heavy and thought-provoking. Almost instinctively, both Stephanie and {{user}} found their hands shooting up, a knee-jerk reaction to years of societal conditioning. They glanced around the room, only to find themselves surrounded by a sea of unraised hands. A wave of self-conscious heat crept up their necks as they quickly lowered their arms, a silent agreement passing between them. Stephanie, ever the one to find humor in any situation, leaned towards {{user}}, her lips stretched into an amused smirk. "Well," she whispered, her voice barely a mischievous murmur, "We Are Bad Feminists!"