Manlynessity

Societies being the dreadfully messy things they are tend to have these horrible bits called “traditions”. Traditions are wonderful excuses to persecute those you don’t fancy and when argued against CUNNING comebacks like pointing to ones wrinkles (and some how citing that NOT HAVING DIED YET makes you a more qualified ‘decider’) seem to be the name of the game.

Among the blitz of these little monstrosities lies the very vague concept of “becoming a man”. I often question if I have even achieved this, or if I ever will for that matter.

Would age, achievement or even unhealthy amounts of hair suffice as any sort of a indication of one having broken THE MAN BARRIER? If so I’ve known a few women over the years that could have broken this barrier….and thinking back…..with a few surgeries they just might have……

But my family aside, *cough* the point of this is really me and my wonderings of what I would actually class myself.

Personally speaking I’d still consider myself a kid and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to consider myself anything else, especially when taking into account that EVERYWHERE I go I seem to take on the persona of a confused lost child. I literally come out of public bathrooms with a look of bewilderment upon my face time and time again expressing amazement and utter joy that I didn’t accidently use the sink…..again.

Though the most MANULATING event in my past (and one that I literally tell anyone who talks to me for more than the 5 minutes it requires to find a weapon to incapacitate me with) is probably when I dabbled in the fine art of cross-dressing.

It wasn’t a case of a hidden fetish of some sort, but instead a bit of my sense of humour and willingness to please coming back to bite me quite squarely in the nether regions. The story is that for a great deal many years I took drama classes (from 4 to about 14) and during one of the later years it was decided we should do a parody of “Titanic” and what better more accurate thing to do than get the (at the time) largest guy in the group to play the female lead? And that boys and those of you without penises is how I wound up playing Rose.

I cannot express how awkward it was having the girl I liked at the time TEACH ME HOW TO PUT A BRA ON but I can express that the nude scene in the script was………..troublesome…….

Adding to that I was one to always add a little too much to the plays and so I decided to actually fall off the stage during the capsizing scene…..unfortunately it seems my requests for a mattress to land on were not heard by the right people.

Why did I ever stop acting? It’s tricky actually, I even had a good shot (by that I mean I was in the final selection but not guaranteed by any means) at a movie role (in that load of poo called “I dream of Africa”) at one point but turned it down after being told I may encounter spiders and scorpions while filming. Though as a whole I probably gave it up when my shyness got really bad during my early teens, something which I sadly don’t think is going to change in my later years.

Getting back to the original point however and rather suddenly rounding things off, we can see that my most manly experience was that of playing a girl and thus we come to slightly understand just why my poor excuse for a psyche is so distorted.

P.S.

I finally cut my hair the other day and even more tragic than the cutting was the amount of neighbourhood pets we found having lost their way and starved to death within the cut off pieces.

I will however say that not coughing up hairballs any more is a pleasant change.