Naked Woman, Naked Man, Where Did You Get That Nice Suntan?
Yes? Who is it?
It's the Angry Red Aunt! Let me in!
Okay! Door's open!
YES! COME IN!
No, I think I'll just hang around outside for a few days. And burst in on you when you're trying to have sex, or wear white shorts. M'kay?
(This conversation courtesy of my brain, arguing with my hormones, about my stupid lovely frickin' period that is refusing to show her crimson-ness.)
Oh men. Oh you men out there. You sincerely don't know what you're missing. A woman's period is the reason that the female species, in general, outlives the male species. Because we deal with pain and frustration and anxiety every 28 days, clockwork. And after a while, we're pissed off about the whole deal. And being pissed off regularly hardens us up to life, and we just kick the shit outta whatever gets in our way. Including death. We tell death, "Fuck off, bastard, I'm not ready yet...go bug Mr. Lyle down the street...he kicked a cat the other day."
At first, when you're 10 or 12 years old, a period is a miracle and all new and scary and you feel like a 'woman', whatever that means to you or your mom. As you reach high school, and college, and your 20s, it's something you just do. And watch for. And plan sex around. And buy tons of feminine products to stock up yer bathroom and the bathroom of your horrified boyfriends.
Then, in your 30s and beyond, when you have your families established, when you're done with the procreation aspect of the female plumbing, you just want it to STOP. 'Cause, really, why run the water if you're not gonna float a rubber ducky in there?
(I say all this knowing there are women out there who would welcome a period, whose insides don't work so well, so regularly, or whose reproductive abilities were taken much too quickly due to disease. To you...I wish I could give you my plumbing. I really do.)
This morning I was thinking.
What if I could, for a while, change the landscape 'down there' and be a penis-wielding man for a while? Would I want to? And what would I do with all that protruding cartilage?
I think...I think...YES.
For a few days, I would like the penis, the balls, the testosterone. The first thing I'd do is masturbate. 'Cause then I would FINALLY know what it feels like to use an entire hand to spank the monkey. Then I'd pee. And I mean, I'd pee everywhere! Because I could! I'd pee in sinks! I'd pee on trees! I'd pee in gutters and gross urinals and in a paper cup for a nurse! Because you men-folk DO these things! And you're damn proud of it! You aim! You hold it or don't! You can write your name in the snow! How incredibly cool is that?! And then, of course, I'd have sex. Quick sex, slow sex, all the sexy sex positions and 'around the world' and all that. Sheesh, I'm getting really sorta turned on at that thought.
Would you trade genitalia, if you could? If so, for how long? What would you do with it?