I've just watched the live production of "Grease" (again) and have walked away from the experience feeling both content and angered. It wasn't Aaron Tveit's all-too-frequent hip thrusts or the fact that Julianne Hough is most definitely an angel sent from above. It wasn't even Mario Lopez playing the role of Johnny Fontane that set me off. No, it was the same thing that has since I watched "Grease" for the first time years ago -- the message, the plot, the overall theme. If you think I'm about transform into a raging feminist and begin bashing the entire male species, you're mistaken (kind of).

I could never completely hate "Grease." Even to say that I half hate it is crossing a major line. I, like every other girl, will forever be enraptured by Sandy and Danny's relationship. There will never be a time when I don't swoon at the sight of Kinicke, and "Hopelessly Devoted" will always be my go-to breakup song. Perhaps if the classic musical wasn't oozing elements designed to capture the heart's of teenage girls everywhere, its fatal flaw would be much clearer. In this day and age, the main motto seems to be "be yourself" and "don't change for anyone." Unfortunately, the ending of "Grease" proves to be the exact opposite. Perhaps I'm reaching, but Sandy's iconic transformation could be partially responsible for women's insecurities today. It's a scene that's been marveled at millions of times. Pure, innocent Sandy trades her Keds and sweaters for leather pants, and cigarettes. Her sweet, loving personality flips like a light switch, into a sexy, blunt, more Rizzo-esque character. Danny immediately falls even more head over heels for her (as any boy with half a brain would), and the two literally ride off into the sunset.

Before any conservative menenists try to point out that "Danny changed for Sandy," might I point out that 1. you're seriously reaching and 2. to further prove my point, all he did was put on a different jacket. He traded his black leather for red wool, she changed her entire lifestyle. Perhaps "Grease" set some sort of precedent, as this seems to be the case, even today. Underneath the red lipstick and cig smoke, the real Sandy was most likely suffering from an existential crisis, I wouldn't be surprised if she suffered a major panic attack on their journey to the sun.

Had the original cast reappeared for a sequel, I would certainly hope that it'd involve Sandy realizing that Danny is ultimately an arrogant asshole while she confidently struts away from him, aggressively ripping off her platforms. Such a sequel is just too good to be true, it was the 50s, after all. Millions of other pretty white girls were sneaking out of their houses for a boy and slipping vodka into their punch. Although things have significantly improved, "Grease" continues to be timeless. I can't help but wonder if there was a little girl watching Sandy go against everything she believed in for a boy. I guess we can only hope that the endless singing, dancing, and excellent wardrobe will distract them from what's really going on. It's worked for everyone else. I might be bitter, but a controversial ending won't stop me from belting "Summer Nights" in the shower.