Okay, this post will appear stupid to most of you, but whatever. Also, this is incoherent. And maybe sorta gross. And also pretty pointless. And it has tons of comma splices and fragments.
There are times where I so badly wish I were a guy. The first and probably most common reason why is guys, they don’t bleed for five days and get all hormonal during the cycle.
Another is because they don’t have to do so much to look presentable. They don’t have to, I don’t know, think about ways to unfrizz their hair, or think about whether it’s a good idea to apply conditioner on a certain day or will just a shampoo do okay. Hair treatments are damn expensive for girls who aren’t naturally gifted with shiny hair, and if we wanna have nice hair, we spend dough to get our hair practically frizz-free for a short period of time until it grows back. I know guys have to get their haircut several times a month because their hair(s?) grow immensely fast, but I can live with that, as long as I can live my life not having to shave my pits and not caring about leg hair or facial hair or hair on wherever place on my body that isn’t my head.
And the clothes, they can just pick a shirt off their closet and some shorts or jeans and some sneakers or flip-flops or kicks, and they’re good to go. They don’t have to carry so many personal slash hygienic stuff around, so they can walk around the mall or elsewhere without a bag or some shit.
I know these are all general observations, and I’m probably just too lazy to attend to my body, to shave/wax/pluck all the hair that isn’t on my head and down there, to pick clothes with color coordination, to apply something on my face in order to look at least presentable. All these are probably based off my brother, and I just envy him sometimes how he showers for only five to ten minutes because he doesn’t have so much hair to wash. And how he gets dressed within about a minute or something.
But the prime reason why I sometimes wish so is because books written by men are far more interesting, especially written from the male perspective. Not that I’m saying books written by women aren’t interesting, and I’m probably only saying this because I haven’t read enough books to judge enough authors. I mean, Jane Austen and Harper Lee and Luisa May Alcott and Emily Dickinson and Anne Rice and Danielle Steel and all those well-known female writers had written great works, so women stand equally in the field of producing interesting work. (Although I haven’t read the works of half of the authors I mentioned above, but since they’re positively famous, it’s automatic that they produce good material.)
And one thing, girls can get pretty sappy and get all dramatic. It sucks sometimes. I don’t know what goes through guys’ minds but they don’t look like they’re easily occupied by their emotions. Except, maybe, anger and contempt, which eventually leads them landing a fist on some other guy’s face and stuff.
Maybe I’m just saying shit, but I don’t know. It’s one of those nights.
But well, it’s not that I really wish to be a guy. Being a girl is nice. God made me a girl for a reason. I mean, I appreciate the sexuality I was born with, and I’m happy to embrace the hormonal fits I sometimes encounter. It’s nice to ogle at good-looking guys from afar or from my computer screen. And it’s nice to be able to open up and not feel metaphorically gay about it.
Hell, it’s nice to even harness long-term crushes on unattainable guys that last at least two or more years. Even though this is sort of masochistic, especially when the said crush has a girlfriend, and it’s basically my part-time job to resent the girlfriend and think ill toward her and sob over the fact that the said crush barely acknowledged my existence. But whatever.
Sometimes I just find guys slightly curious.