Okay, I promise not to be the sort of dreary old broad who bemoans the aging process. My philosophy truly will be if it's that bad, shut up and make enough money to get plastic surgery. However, today for the first time in my life, I looked in the mirror and wished I were a man.
From a physical point of view, I've always felt sorry for men, and the first time that I read about phallus envy, I was honestly confused. Why anybody would want to have such an obviously vulnerable and inconvenient appendage was well beyond my thrteen-year-old comprehension. When I grew older and my level of sexual knowledge became higher, it was still blazingly obvious that when it came to reproductive equipment, women had every advantage, except of course for cramps.
Men also have to wear ugly colors, can't accentuate their better features with make-up, and are discouraged from bursting into tears when they're enraged. They lack the shopping gene, and are often in situations where they have to watch football games. Although I enjoy them, I never wanted to be one of them, until today.
This morning, when I looked in the mirror and saw tiny lines that are beginning to emerge above my upper lip, and the distinct signs of a sagging chin, I realized that these were things that would be impossible to hide--unless I were a man. If I were male and saw these unmistakable signs of age, I would be able to shrug, put my shaver in a dark corner of my closet, and begin to grow a lovely crop of facial hair that would completely obscure my problem areas.
So there we are--men grow beards and moustaches, women either sag or get chin tucks. And for the first time in my life, faced with this indisputable truth, I'm suffering genuine envy of the other gender.