Tiptoeing Through A Minefield: Is It Tougher Being A Woman?


‘If I said you have a beautiful body would you hold it against me?’ The Bellamy Brothers

My warped view is based on being a man; I’m not qualified to review on a minefield subject such as this. I’ve an acquaintance who is man, he’s dressed as a woman for half a decade, considered the sex change op for years but glad he kept his tackle, because he now lives life as a man. Being a woman gave him a heart scare – he seems happier now that he’s not shopping all the time and being worried about his figure. 

From the off, I’ve never participated in transgender entities, it doesn't appeal to me; I'm too content in my own skin to digress into the unknown and live life as a woman. I’m not condoning it. I suppose it’s all that kerfaffling with cosmetic facial engineering under the loose tag-line of brand awareness would send me loopy. So hands up, I'm unable to give a definitive answer; I'll stick my head out my shell and say; no-one would be able to, unless they've undergone a sex change - hence why for a heterosexual male the question is impossible to answer in its entirety - for those who've not dabbled in gender swap, 100% of us can answer 50% of the question. Before any point-y hat tough women point their crooked index finger at me, I like to claim with assurance we're all human, and as we've developed an intelligence of such over time - I conduce humankind comprehends values. Unless of course you feel so depleted in your gender role you feel it is necessary to appeared on Jeremy Kyle to show the nation the monster within - knock yourself out, the nation will see it as a freak show and values play second fiddle to moronic tendencies when it comes to entertainment.

Ever since my voice broke while in a school playground shouting at three octaves in one sentence, I found life got profoundly easy, boyhood entered the ‘I am a man’ entity. My hair got greasy; hirsuteness cradled my wafer thin body as if to insulate the skin and bones from the elements of climate and life itself. The huge surge of testosterone configured my mind and soul, like gatecrashers at a nonagenarian’s birthday party - welcome to manhood. All forms of coyness evaporate under the dictatorship of the hormonal army. Girls aren’t just friends now but viewed as potential conquests if ‘remotely’ attractive. Suddenly you have two heads, a greasy one and the other emerges without invitation whereby no adolescent can control without sweating and looking pained. You make lurid comments, they just blurt in a high-pitched then low-pitched gruff - thankfully, illegible to most, why it’s impossible to comprehend the male teenager especially. I recall sprouting out profanities at whim, comrades just smiled back and sometimes giggled – they got it. They knew what I was going through; they may say something equally aggressive back and I nodded with a sneer. Day dreams seem innocuous at first then rapidly morphed into eroticism, I had a surreal one which involved me playing football pretending to be the Chelsea legend Kerry Dixon as I was about to stroke the ball into the net, the leather ball morphed into a vagina – my mind went blank and I stared out into open space, the result of too much information. Normally, it wouldn’t matter, but my Religious Education tutor was asking me a question about supernaturalism at the time. I spluttered profusely and said…  “Err… I, I, I had a divine moment.”  From that moment I always got high grades from her. 

‘Himbo’ for men

What I do know is that when women have partaken in wearing testosterone patches, they at once get snappy, get very irritable and are not themselves at all, and those who’ve done it for several days have greater respect for men thereafter. For men to do the same test they’ve just got to drink copious amounts of real ale over a long period, the telling sign is the development of ‘moobs’ also known as man boobs. A curious phenomenon that has women shifting uneasily, “I don’t like men who’ve bigger boobs than me.”  Their disdain and disgust at such a find on a male makes you ponder whether women think it is a cosmetic choice that men partake in quite willingly. A love of the mammary glands gone too far,  a case of, if I can’t feel breasts on a daily basis, I’ll make some of my own via consuming copious amounts of beer and ale – a win, win scenario. Beach seals gallivant on foreign beaches unashamed at their faux pas state – proof the ‘himbo’ ego overrides the visualization. Soon as the worldly possessions are contracted via marriage – the fuller image of ‘loved’ man is an aspiration; inadvertently spells out women’s insecurities of themselves; because what other female would want that behemoth ‘Cotton Trader’ man beast? Take-away the infidelity temptation and then they won’t stray - In the words of Tina Turner… “What’s love got to do with it?” The number one rule of tough love; you aren’t what you eat, but whom you meet. 

If hang-ups or insecurities are the spirit level gauge for toughness and dealing with such ailments, women are the toughest sex. Men are mere pawns in a superfluous world of material girls; if you don’t play they assume you’re gay. Tough for the few who relish authenticity in a capitalistic world telling us what we want and what we need. Women are the ones who take note; men have to abide to their tough love to sustain anything resembling a relationship. Why women are toughest. In regards to break ups, men suffer the longest; doubly so if children are involved. The requirement of Fathers For Justice movement is a fine illustration of the corrosive disorder our legal system puts on men; to deal with the dysfunctional decree– men are the toughest, then again the weakest while putting up a defense for equal parental rights on grounds that the majority of men still have the ‘we could still get back together as a family unit’ sitting at the back of his consciousness. I know far too many guys who’ve got this niggling feeling. Is it tougher to stick it out or tougher to start all over again? Again there’s no definitive answer.

They say the grass is always greener on the other-side. Alas, with the differing degrees of non-equal gender pay, the domain of celebrity lifestyles and airbrushed magazines and cosmetic corporate branding intruding on women’s lives and thoughts, let alone child rearing – they’ve got to be pretty tough; then again, its women not men who do this to their gender. Feeding on those who’ve low self esteems – it’s the men who’re left to pick up the pieces in this modern era knowing fully well what may come from it….  a tougher woman with a Machiavellian and material girl tendencies ready to take you to the cleaners;  to get out the pizza stains on their ‘Cotton Trader’ fleece. 

Man rules the world; albeit, guided by women.

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