Sometimes I take a critical look at myself and wonder…was I meant to be a woman? Not that I identify as a male or want a penis. Penises are ugly, dangly things. I’m pretty comfortable with my lady bits even though they aren’t tucked in as nice and neat as they were 15 years ago. Kids will do that to you.
And, despite the whole penis thing, I’m physically attracted to men. Although I will admit that women are a lot prettier to look at naked. And, I do notice attractive women for sure. I think that’s more of a “damn I wish I looked like that,” than a “damn, I want to hit that” kind of attraction.
No, I have all the body parts I think I should, and I’m sexually oriented to men. But there are parts of my mind and my actions that seem more male than female. Parts of me that go against the preferences and attitudes that were barreled into me as a child that defined what a girl was supposed to be. Those things that were said to be inherently woman-like traits that I just don’t have.
What Girls Like vs Me
- Girls like pink.
Me: Ew. No. It drives me crazy that all “girls’ stuff” is pink. Can we just use the regular colors of things? I used to get so annoyed buying toys for my girls because I know they would rather have a dollhouse that was the actual color of a house and not some God-awful bright shade of pink. Plus boys can play with dolls too and I don’t think, just because they like dolls means they necessarily like pink.
- Girls like babies and kids and are born with a natural desire to be a mother.
Me: Hard pass. Rather get a puppy. I’ve wrote about this before. Yes, I know I have kids. Read the post and you’ll get me more.
- Girls can cook.
Me: Unfortunately no, and my mom’s side of the family is Italian so I fail even more. My food doesn’t poison people per se, but sometimes it’s not edible. Actually, I take that back. I served under-cooked chicken once or twice. People may have been sick.
- Girls like to shop.
Me: This is almost torture. I feel physically drained after shopping and am so grateful for the internet for this, and many other, reasons.
- Girls are proper.
Me: I’m pretty disgusting. I have to spit out hockers when I’m sick because my sinuses drain like crazy. I only shave the bottom half of my legs unless I’m wearing a swimsuit. I smell the objects I pick out of my toenails. Doesn’t everyone?! I enjoy peeling sunburn. I’m seriously pretty nasty.
Girls aren’t supposed to be that way. I mean, my husband’s aunt has never farted in front of her husband and they’ve been married for over 20 years. I think I peed on a hillside on mine and Vince‘s first date.
- Girls are sentimental.
Me: I’m emotional, not sentimental. I refuse to watch movies about dogs because I know at some point the animal will either die or get abandoned and my heart can’t handle that. I avoid most of the news because it causes borderline anxiety. But I can let go of traditions and throw away old birthday cards and kid’s artwork without batting an eye. I don’t get attached to things.
- Girls want to be romanced.
Me: I’m more of a “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” kind of person. I know this seems counter-intuitive to my prude post and to the fact that I’ve only ever been with Vince so I equate sex with love. However, when he wants to do it, I honestly would rather he drag me like a caveman to the nearest bed and have his way. I don’t need rose petals thrown around. That’s just a waste of money and roses smell like shit. I don’t need him to play some romantic music. That’ll just make me laugh. Hell, I don’t even need to be cuddled after.
See? Am I a woman? Women are supposed to want romance. They are supposed to want to feel seen and be treated with love. Me? I know what we are here for. I like it. I have 3 minutes. Let’s do it. Done. That sounds so cold I guess. I mean, I’ll take sweet gestures outside of the bedroom. A back rub here. A sweet note there. That’s adorable and shows that he cares about me. But, when sex is involved, I don’t need it at all.
- Girls like to hang out with other girls.
Me: Eh. It depends on the girls. Girls can be bitchy and two-faced. I can’t stand drama or conflict. As a whole, I don’t naturally gravitate towards hanging out with people anyways. I seriously only have a few friends because of this and it sucks but it’s hard to change my nature. Plus, I can get really tired after having conversations. I don’t know why. It’s just draining.
When we do go out and I don’t know people, I tend to circle Vince like the sun. I stay close because he’s my comfort and he always includes me in his conversations. He’s really great for that. And, he usually talks to guys. So I talk to guys, and their conversations are surprisingly interesting. I enjoy the break of not talking about my kids because guys don’t really do that. They talk about current events, weird facts, dirty jokes, funny videos, sports, ways to make money. Random topics that go on tangents that you don’t expect. It can be nice.
Sure, I have typical girl behaviors/preference. I played with Barbie dolls as a kid. I don’t mind dresses because they’re one piece of clothing and they camouflage my thunder thighs. I like crafts, wine, and pumpkin spice lattes. And, now that I have kids of my own, I do like mine and a few others.
I’m kind of a woman.
An Inadequate Woman
I know that some of these things might seem stuck in the past or trivial when compared to people with more significant gender identity issues. But I do have little internal battles with myself to let go of what I think a woman is supposed to do vs what are old-fashioned, stupid-ass gender stereotypes.
Because these stereotypes make me feel inadequate. Make me feel like I am not who I am supposed to be or not enough. They make me think I need to work full time and help with mother-fucking science projects which are worse than getting dental work done. That I should want to get an edible and healthy dinner on the table. The stereotypes make me feel it’s my job to clean the house and do the laundry constantly since my daughter goes through 6 pairs of underwear a day. That I should want to save all the crafts my kids make and plan shopping trips with my girlfriends. That I should get upset when my husband doesn’t romance me before we get it on.
You get it. The list keeps going.
And I don’t want to do all those things. I don’t want to cook because I hate it and I truly suck at it. I don’t want to save all my kid’s artwork and crafts. Some of it’s crap. I love you kids, but it’s crap and let’s be honest, you really didn’t put a lot of effort into it. I don’t mind helping my kids with their homework, but there are about 100 other things I’d rather be doing and honestly they should be able to do this shit themselves. I did my time in school already.
I Identify as Me
I can’t imagine how truly confusing and challenging it is to grow up in a body that doesn’t feel like your own based on everything society is saying you should feel, do, and think. I’m not diminishing that fact at all by comparing my experience to that.
But, in a smaller way, I get a piece of it. I get a small piece of that feeling like I’m supposed to feel a certain way or want to do certain things because of the genitals I have…but I just don’t. People need to stop pushing limits on people based on whether they have a penis or a vagina. It’s hard because it’s been so ingrained in us…but people need to stop being so narrow-minded.
I’m trying to impress this on my girls. Teaching them that “boy things” are just things that anyone can like, despite what society says. Gianna likes to shop in the “boy’s” section for clothes because she says all the “girl’s” stuff is too glittery and loud. She wears “boy’s” shirts and shoes…but throws on her makeup and carries a flower backpack. Because that’s what she likes, regardless of the gender the store decided to label it.
Scarlett gets angry at her shoulders and arms, saying she has “man shoulders” because they are so big. But, her arms are strong as shit. She can bang out push ups like a champ, because she has to do them when she wants to eat sugar and that girl is addicted. I tell her you don’t have man arms, babe. You have strong arms. Because you are strong.
I want to stop thinking about it. Thinking about what “woman” things I identify with or what are girl things vs guy things. I identify as me. Not a woman. Not a man. I’m me.
I’m just me. A human who happens to have a vagina. Who likes certain things.
Krissy I totally agree!!! My mom has never farted in front of my dad u less it was on accident shit I fart on bobby or by bobby everyday haha I hate cooking to it’s not enjoyable at all! I rather clean! Also I also don’t have many friends it’s more family or bobby, I have a few girl friends guys were always who I hung out with more in high school too drama is annoying an girls got on my nerves! You are fine how you are :)!! You remind me of me a lot an yes I love… Read more »
Great read Krissy, keep being You, you’re Great at it. I live reading these posts, you really make me think!!!!!❤
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