I am and always have been anything but girlie. As a little girl, I can remember holding my own with the boys in my neighborhood playing basketball. Or kickball, dodge ball, or any other "ball" we entertained ourselves with. This tendency has not left me. Not ever.
I love to cook (especially bake), love to clean, and I love laundry. That's about where the classic female customs end for me. Come to think of it, that may be less "female" and more "disorder". Yes, I have boobs and all the other anatomical makings of a girl. But as a rule, things that are inherently female get on my damn nerves.
I hate shopping. ALL shopping. Pantyhose should be outlawed. Actually, I'm not a huge fan of underwear in general. My mother had to MAKE me wear make-up as a teen. That's probably my number one hated female thing: make-up. I hate applying it, I hate wearing it, and I especially hate that I look better with it on. As a friend of mine says: "Every barn looks better with a little paint".
Mani/pedi? It's nice every once and a while, pedicures are quite relaxing, but it is far from a necessity for me. Jewelry? No, thanks--take me to dinner. Flowers? I love pretty things, but to me it's a waste of money. Soap operas?? Puh-lease. Reality TV?? I am raising two teenagers, that's enough drama for me, thankyouverymuch.
Not only do female things get on my nerves, I can relate to and enjoy "boy" things a whole lot more. I have always had more male friends than girl friends. ALWAYS. I understand the rules of professional sports. Football season is my FAVORITE time of the year. ESPN is a favorite on my TV menu. My husband spends more time in the bathroom than I do when we go out. I don't get over-emotional--about ANYTHING. I don't attach emotion to "things" and "stuff". If it doesn't serve a purpose, and a useful one, I don't own it. It just doesn't make sense to me to hoard things in the name of nostalgia. I've been called "unsentimental", "heartless", and "cold". I could give many more examples as the list is numerous. And I'm okay with it. At least I thought I was until this exchange with John last night:
John: Your new haircut looks good, honey.
Me: Um, thanks.
John: You don't like it?
Me: It was more for utility than fashion.
HUH?? Do you know a female who would make such a statement? I sure as hell don't!
So I am having to come to some level of acceptance (again) that I'm a man on the inside. Or at least that's what I've been told. My best friend in my hometown is black and she used to tell me I was black on the inside. Congratulations, honey!! You've married a black man.
Oh well, here's to hoping I enter some sort of time warp and wake up Saturday to some college football.
Ha! If only . . .
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