Penis Envy

I might be shot for this, or at least stripped of my lipstick and high heels, but many times I've said out loud and to an audience that I wished I'd been a boy. It's not that I really believe I'm that much of a tomboy. It's that sometimes living in a patriarchal world I feel that they've got more going for them. Sometimes I hate being the weaker sex, and since I'm weak (physically, hold the snickers) for my own sex I really hate being a girl. I'm sure Freud would call this penis envy.

I guess wanting to be a boy I could have searched out gender reassignment instead I pursued jobs working with males. More specifically supervising their toileting which involves plenty of time in the boys bathroom. Unpleasant in smell and failure to aim.

The past two days have made this ritual even more unpleasant. Yesterday was graduation day and many parents wandered the halls before and after the ceremony. Some of them wandered into the boys' bathroom. In the small rectangle room I'm usually but to shoulder with little kids frantically dodging their teachers. Not that day. I managed to be the only staff every time I entered.

But not the only adult. No, some random old man (old meaning someone's father) would saunter in, stand between me and urinal and generate a whizzing sound that could only mean one thing. My body generated something itself, a funky feeling in the pit of my stomach and a sudden heat that burned my cheeks.

It gets better. Today in a weekly work swim we were sent to the boys' locker room. And though we were behind the 'Employees Only' sign I felt slightly uncomfortable. I guess guys just have more confidence, are more at ease with their natural form because behind three locked doors I still scrambled to hurry, hoping that no one would walk in.

It's not envy. In fact it's not even a wish at this point. I'm wearing skirts and high-heels for the rest of the month.