I guess I’m pretty well suited to be a guy, although I'm an odd one. C’mon, let’s call a spade a spade! Folks sometimes think on the phone they’re talking to a woman and my friend A. calls me, “Talks like Girl.’ Not that I’d be a good woman. I mean, makeup? When most people look better being who they really are? It wouldn't help me much anyway. Now, a new hairdo & we're ready to rock 'n roll.
And worrying about being thinner – I'd really fail as a woman in that regard. 'Ampleness' should be celebrated as a sign of good taste and comfort within one’s skin. I sure ain’t the skinniest fellow so I can talk. Ever see me trundle across an intersection against the light, squealing like I’m an oversized porker about to be put onto a spit?
And raising children? We all know where a kid is need will go first, and it’s not the curmudgeon of a father. Unless the powerful scent of a throbbing wallet is in the air [editor’s note: refer to previous post’s discussion of “jackals”]. Shopping? Not this amigo. Guys go buying, for guy stuff we convince ourselves we really need, esp. as involves hardware, sweat and cursing. Bring on that leaky faucet.
Maybe the difficulty in playing our gender roles isn’t doing what comes naturally. It’s in Holding On to what we think we do best, without stretching ourselves too much. But that’s a whole different blog post that I actually would need to ponder.
Now it's time to scratch something or other, criticize everyone’s driving, and be a rock star in my own head! (yes, I've reverted back to Full Guy Mode again!)