My mother was thrilled that her first child turned out to be a girl, and her enthusiasm showed in the frilly dresses and intricate French braids she wove in my hair. She gave me a girly girl name, and I’m sure she had high hopes that I would one day grow into a graceful lady.
I remember her shocked expression when she went into the garage one day to find me elbow-deep in deer innards, having just skinned Bambi while my father coached me as on proper technique.
Someone made sure I had plenty of Tonka trucks and toy guns after that, and I am grateful that no one forced me to wear plastic princess pumps or tiaras. I did have more than a normal amount of Barbies, but again to Mom’s dismay, they were usually naked and missing much of their hair.
Given few gender restraints (Mom still made me wear a shirt) and allowed to participate in activities I naturally gravitated toward, I grew up to be a little more masculine in my demeanor than some of my peers would prefer. A former friend once rudely declared that I was a man with a vagina. I think he was pissed because I took his money in a poker game.
It has nothing to do with my appearance, at least I don’t think it does. I wear dresses and makeup, frequently flaunt the spectacular bosoms God saw fit to bless me with, and actually own several aprons. I keep a tidy home, meet my husband at the door when he arrives with a plate of food, and keep many 1950’s-era customs. Not once have I ever scratched my genitals in public.
I’m thankful that my family didn’t treat me as someone whose value would only come from her looks and later her womb, something I see a lot where I’m from. They pushed me to be independent, educated, confident, and maybe even a little too tough. I had never, ever really wondered what it would be like to actually be a man, because I’d never felt like I was missing out on anything because I wasn’t one.
Never, ever, that is, until the day my car started making a funny noise.
I took it into the mechanic who popped the hood, muttered something about the flux capacitor and quoted me his reasonable price of eleventy million dollars.
I was completely prepared to write that check, y’all.
Now, here’s a girl who once shot a cherry off a cigarette at 50 paces while soundly thrashed after drinking several of her male buddies under the table during a crawfish boil. This chick stayed in her house without electricity for two weeks after a hurricane, cutting down trees, fending off buffalo-sized mosquitoes and taking cold showers before downing bologna sandwiches because she couldn’t stand the thought of people looting her home.
Daddy had tried to teach me about cars, but up until I was 26, I couldn’t drive a stick and thought his old Dodge had a “Cadillac converter.” I just was not interested.
How dearly I’ve paid for that lapse in judgment.
From that first trip to the mechanic with my squeaky squawky car, on any day when I had to step foot in a car dealership, a body shop, or a tire and lube joint, I immediately wished for a golden tally whacker to wave around at dishonest salesmen. Perhaps even a convenient purse-sized ding-a-ling that would beep when some chauvinistic grease monkey was trying to extort money from my ignorant ass. I wondered how it would feel to hop out of the car, blatantly adjust myself, spit and then swagger into the office without worrying about being taken advantage of because I had tits.
There was a brief moment of respite from my automobile anxiety when I dated a shade-tree mechanic for a few months. He was patient enough to draw me a schematic of a combustion engine and explain away much of the mystery. Sadly, we broke up before he got to the rest of the car’s innards, and for a long time I felt I was doomed to a life of wishing away my lady parts every time I needed vehicle assistance.
These days, I step into the bay armed with Google, and there the bullshit stops. I only wonder about what it would be like to be a man when I have to pee during long car rides.
Flux capacitor my ass.
www.mamamash.com
Judges Comments:
"i love the direction you took this assignment! An unexpected surprise, a good one. I like your pictures they add just the right touch. great job! :) "
Erica, from Good Job Momma
"This is not exactly the direction I would have thought to see from this week's assignment but you do mention what you would do if you were a man for a day so it technically covers the assignment. I am pleasantly surprised with you taking the other side of it in being content with what you are and the reason why you are content with that. Well put-together and easy to follow the though process here. "
Random Girl, from Random Girl Blog
"I'm going to preface this by saying that this post was well-written and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
However. The assignment was "If You Could Be The Opposite Sex For The Day...". I don't think you adequately grasped that in this post. You may have mentioned it, but your post was mainly about how you grew up as a female."
T. Rojas, from Motherhood: The Definition of Insanity
Judges Comments:
"i love the direction you took this assignment! An unexpected surprise, a good one. I like your pictures they add just the right touch. great job! :) "
Erica, from Good Job Momma
"This is not exactly the direction I would have thought to see from this week's assignment but you do mention what you would do if you were a man for a day so it technically covers the assignment. I am pleasantly surprised with you taking the other side of it in being content with what you are and the reason why you are content with that. Well put-together and easy to follow the though process here. "
Random Girl, from Random Girl Blog
"I'm going to preface this by saying that this post was well-written and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
However. The assignment was "If You Could Be The Opposite Sex For The Day...". I don't think you adequately grasped that in this post. You may have mentioned it, but your post was mainly about how you grew up as a female."
T. Rojas, from Motherhood: The Definition of Insanity