I’ve already detailed my reasons for thanking the Good Lord I was born with a uterus in my post Top 5 Reasons I’m Glad I’m Not a Manbut after further research and an in-depth look into my family dynamics I’ve come up with some reasons it might actually be handy to carry the “Y” chromosome.
I’ve always been a “girly-girl” and I’m pretty sureIshould hail from the late 19th century given my yearning to be therecipient of old-fashioned male chivalry. Ilove me a good “yes ma’am” and always appreciate an opened car door…and the occasional duel for my honor. (Okay, so I’ve never been the focus of a “duel for honor” but Idid get into a mean childhood fight in the orchard next to my house. Let’s just say I cleaned house. Okay, not really. But I was there.)All in all, I love beinga woman. But we all know, birthing children aside, women have a heavy load to haul and typicallylack the capacity to let things “roll off our backs”, much unlike our genetic counterparts. After some thought, I’ve come up with five reasons itwould be mighty handy to be a man.
1) Urinating while standing. This gift applies to both in and out-of-doors (particularly, the latter). Have you ever noticed that using the privy as a woman is such a chore? There’s the toilet seat to contend with, the requisite disrobing (only magnified if you’re the hose-wearing type), and the almost-never-failing lack of toilet paper at that exact moment that you need it. Using a public restroom?Factor in all of the above along with the fear that you will possibly contract some horrible disease from the publicly-used toilet. Emergency potty stop in the great outdoors? You may not need to worry about a horrible disease but pine needles? A little too close to your hoo-hah? Worrisome. Now, men? Indoors, outdoors, it’s all the same. Open your fly and get the job done.
2) Inherent ability to ignore a mess. It continues to amaze me how easy it is for a man to walk right past a mess on the floor seemingly without noticing anything is amiss. And my husband has an even more amazing ability. Somehow, he not only fails to notice a mess on the floor, he retains an almost superheroic skill of avoiding any contact with said mess by stepping around it. It’s fascinating. Really.I’m jealous.
3) Ability to lose weight. Quickly. Has anyone seen the ‘SlimQuick’ commercial with the cartoon couple trying to lose weight together? The husband shrinks at disgusting rates while the wife fights gaining. As funny as they are, there’s a whole lot of truth to these commercials. And I’m living it. A couple of months ago my hubby walks in, shaking his head,to the living room where I was sweating while Walking Away the Pounds. “What’s up?” I innocently asked, huffing and puffingbetween knee lifts and side-steps. He says, “That’s funny. I’ve lost 10 pounds. Man, I wasn’t even trying! Weird. I’m hungry. What happened to those ding dongs?” How nice it must be to just randomly step on (my arch-nemesis) the scale and be pleasantly surprised that you’ve lost some weight? First of all, I never randomly step on the scale. It takes a lot of motivational talk and sometimesa couple ofmartinis to get me to step on the scale. And pleasantly surprised? Not usually.
4) Unabashed eating and snacking. I’ve already addressed the unfair advantage men have over women at losing weight. They also have the advantage of eating without a care in the world. Want a snack? Go have one. Craving a pizza for dinner? Order it up. Now, I don’t know about you, and I may be in the minority here, but I go through some sort of inner struggle each and every time I open my mouth. It doesn’t matter if I’ve consumed one carrot, two glasses of water and a mini-marshmallow as my day’s caloric intake, I still have to struggle withit. (Oh, and I should quickly add here, the above has actually never happened. I always eat at least two carrots. And a Nachos BellGrande.)
5) Lack of an overactive reproductive system. I would never trade inmy ability to mother my children. Not even for a private concert with the Thunder from Down Under. Hmm. (Okay, I’m back.) That being said, I might be persuaded to give up all the other crap that goes along with having a uterus. Like PMS, and hormonal breakouts, and bouts of crying at touching commercials. And most importantly that dreaded, God-forsaken, monthly visit from that ol’ ho-bag Aunt Flo. This is a part of life that our men will never be afforded the opportunity to experience. Lucky ducks.
When all is said and done, even despite the above examples, I am still grateful to be a woman. Sure it would be nice to give up some of the extra baggage that comes along with being the fairer sex but at the end of the day, I’d much rather carry balloons on my chestthan walnuts in my pants. **wink, wink**