I don’t have penis envy. I am extremely happy with my vagina. It’s served me well over the years and considering I gave natural birth to two of my four sons, it’s still in pretty good condition. Just not as pretty as it used to be, so my husband tells me. But I would like to know what it’s like to live with a penis for a day. One that is attached to me that is, not spend the day with my husband.
After giving it great thought over the last few years, ( I clearly have too much time on my hands), it’s come down to three items on my ‘gender kicker bucket list’. Yes, three. Of all the things I could do as a man for a day, only three of them really interest me.
I’m not interested in lifting heavy things because I can do that already – I have a husband to do it for me. If he’s not around then someone else would probably lend a hand. I have big boobs so getting a man to help wouldn’t be too difficult.
I don’t want to pee standing up, because I can do that too, if I really feel the need. I tried once as a child, much to the disgust of my mother, and it wasn’t that hard. My aim certainly wasn’t any worse than that of my three brothers, if anything I was more particular about the mess I left behind. Although, if you are a man the world is your toilet. There’s no waiting for the next roadside cafe that has clean loos, no lining up at music festivals until your bladder breaks and you’re afraid to laugh, or cough, or breathe.
And I don’t really want to have sex because a man does all that work and ends up huffing and puffing and lathered in sweat for a three second orgasm. Count it, one cat and dog, two cat and dog, three cat and dog . That’s it? Jesus, I’ve had sneezes that have lasted longer. Admittedly he is biologically guaranteed of having an orgasm, unlike women. If it’s up and it’s working then it’s going to come, eventually. No thanks. I like a woman’s orgasm much better – our equipment doesn’t flail and sag after an orgasm either, so the sky’s the limit.
But before we discuss my three activities, let’s set the scene first. My gender change is a complete and utter mind and body swap. I am not a woman in a man’s body because then I would still think like a woman and would still, essentially, be a woman. No, I am a man, through and through.
The first thing I would do as a man is to get a blow job. No doubt about it. I want to know what all the fuss is about, because let’s face it, men do carry on a bit when it comes to oral sex. And if I’m only going to experience a three second journey to bliss and back then someone else is going to do all the work to get me there.
Secondly, I’d like to understand the power of boobs, exposed thigh, and bum cheek. What is it about these three body parts that will reduce a man to a blathering, stammering, dribbling deer in the headlights? My hubby’s an intelligent, driven guy, but when I flash him, he turns into a village idiot. An award winning night of television for him is getting to see boobs in more than two shows. No wonder he loves each season of Underbelly.
Lastly, I would like to be able to belch, fart and adjust / scratch my nuts in public. It’s perfectly acceptable for a man to do all of these while he’s having a conversation, drinking beer, watching sports or attending to a barbeque. Compare that with a woman who does the same and suddenly she’s a feral. (We’ll compromise and let the woman scratch her hoo-ha in the absence of nuts, seeing as our nuts are actually our ovaries and scratching them in public would attract more than just a disapproving glance.)
And a man? What would he do if he could be a woman for a day? I asked my husband, who pondered this question for all of five seconds, which is about three days quicker than when he chooses a paint colour. His answer, “I’d stay at home and play with my boobs all day.” Bless his simple soul.
Would being a man for a day interest you?