That's Just a Sock in My Pants

When I was a pre-teen I used to wish that I was a boy. I mean that I wished for it INTENSELY and even went so far as to go out into the garage (which was my land of imagination) and pretend speaking like, walking like and acting like a boy. I would stand up to pee. I would stuff a sock down my pants. My desire to be a boy was rather consuming.

I’m not sure if my mother ever noticed this or anything related to it. I’m not sure if she was ever worried or if she was on the phone discussing this with her girlfriends. She’s never mentioned it in all these years so I assume that my secret is safe…until now that I’m sharing it with the Internets, that is.

I’m not a lesbian or transgender or whatever the word would be for a woman who wants to be a man. I don’t wish to be male as an adult. I kissed a girl once and found it to be gross – way too soft and blah. While I do enjoy staring at a nice set of boobs, I seemed to outgrow my desire to actually be a man.

I get all embarrassed when I sit and think of that time now that I’m an adult. What was wrong with me? Was it some kind of obsession of missing having a father in my life? I’ve never asked anyone if it was normal or what the cause could have been or why it didn’t progress into me becoming something different as an adult.

It’s on my mind today for 2 reasons. First, my son will turn 10 next month and the age of 10 is exactly when all of this occurred in my life. I realize now that he is now old enough to be in his room living a life that I know nothing about. It’s not that I think he’s in his room pretending to be a girl. Of course, if he was, I would accept it totally and love him still and take him shoe shopping. It’s that he is hitting an age where I don’t know his every thought or feeling anymore. He’s having curiosities and lessons and fantasies about things that I probably couldn’t imagine nor would I even probably want to imagine.

That is a scary and exciting thought to me. My baby boy is now more of a person and a human being than just my son. When I think on my childhood, 10 years old is really a pivotal age where I go from remembering tidbits of my childhood to really remembering day to day life and events and feelings. So as a parent, if I fuck up now, I can’t just shrug it off and say, “oh he won’t even remember me doing this to him”. He WILL remember it now. This realization has brought a deep sense of responsibility in me on how I speak to him, how I speak to others, my actions and my reactions.

Heavy.

The other reason I’m thinking of my pre-teen male tendencies? My husband has a cold. This naturally means that he may as well have god damn stage 4 lung cancer with how he’s acting and carrying on as if he’s dying. And as he is lying in bed at home right now at 1:58pm on a Thursday actually getting to use a whole sick day for himself because HE is actually ill, I just really hate him for it and I’m jealous and pissed of how cushy most men with wives have it and I really wish for this moment that I was a man.