Author's Note: The following is an assignment for my Anthopology 308 class: women, sex roles and culture. Please read it accordingly and try not to laugh too hard.
A Day as a Woman
The day started as any other day would. It was in the middle of the week—a Wednesday I think—only I felt different. My alarm clock on my cell phone went off at 6:30 AM. Then again fifteen minutes later. And it went off again, another quarter-of-an-hour later. Each subsequent time, I found myself rolling over and going back to sleep, not entirely realizing there was something drastically different.
As always in the mornings, I had to go to the bathroom. But it didn't feel as urgent as normal. And that was when my hand rested on my chest only to feel a pair of fleshy mounds. I massaged them for a moment until the revelation hit me that these were a pair of breasts—my own pair of breasts.
I played with them a little longer, mashing them together and massaging them gently. That was when I reached up to run my hair through my usually nappy Afro, only to find that my hair was naturally long and curly. My hands ran slowly down my body only to notice that a piece of very important equipment was no longer there, but replaced by another piece of very important equipment—a vagina.
That was when it hit me. I was a woman! I had a perky set of breasts and a vagina. When that realization smashed into me like a jackknifed eighteen-wheeler, there was really only one thing for me to do: masturbate.
I'm sure every man at one time or another wonders what sexual pleasure feels like for a woman. Now I was about to find out first hand (literally and figuratively). For time and argument's sake, I'll simply state that women can have a lot more fun. There are so many more options for them then there are for men.
I lumbered into the bathroom groggily and stared at the toilet with a crooked smile on my face. No more standing up for me. So I plopped down on the toilet seat and released.
It was now time for me to shower up and start getting ready. Before I jumped in the shower, though, I needed to check myself out. Funny it seemed how my rugged good looks and Adonis-like physique translated so well into an amazingly gorgeous, voluptuous female. I jumped into the shower and took much longer than expected. By the time I hopped out and dried off, it had taken me thirty minutes longer than it normally did for me to shower.
Adapting the attitude I normally take when running late, I took my time. Any amount of rushing wouldn't make me get to class on time. Unsure of whether or not I'd get another opportunity like this, I threw on the cutest thing in my closet. Perhaps my wardrobe changed as well, because my trademark blazer was nowhere to be found. The weather was supposed to be perfect: seventy-five degrees with a light spring breeze, and I wanted to wear something to fit the weather. I also wanted to wear something that would draw attention. If I had it, I would flaunt it, dammit. That's what women do anyway, right?
Author's Note: The following outfit was contributed for the specific purpose of this assignment by a friend of mine who works at Victoria's Secret. My knowledge of the items listed is extremely limited.
I threw on my undergarments first, a black water bra from Victoria's Secret and a white striped thong, as I guy a loved to look at oh so much, also from Victoria's Secret. As I found, they were surprisingly comfortable. Next, I put on a red halter top and a pair of Guess jeans. I topped everything off with a pair of sexy shoes with three-inch heels. Looking down, I was surprised at how small my feet were—a size six. I didn't bother with makeup since I thought it would mask my true beauty in the first place.
I haven't been a size six since I was 10. But then again, that was when I was a guy.
The day was one huge learning experience for me. Once on campus, I kind of just hung around and socialized seeing as I missed both of my classes that day. Trekking across campus I could feel the eyes of all the guys on me as I switched my hips effortlessly like one of those runway models. Doors were opened for me and I showed my appreciation with a "thank you" and a smile—how all women should react for something so small and insignificant.
It was also interesting to see their gazes switch away the instant I looked their way. And then I had to deal with all those guys who thought they were smooth and had game.
Some of the guys were really genuine and sincere. Others seemed like all they wanted was to get in my pants. I almost wanted to tell them the truth—that I was a lesbian. Even though I was a woman, I still checked out other women and found myself noticing more and more things about them than I would've as a man. T'was now around midday and it was time for a potty break.
Wipe and dry.
I exited the bathroom after checking myself in the mirror. Upon exiting the room some asshole approached me like I was some kind of whore. That infuriated me to no end. Was my attire inviting that kind of approach? I could only begin to imagine, as the guy called me a bitch or something like that under his breath. All I could think about was a segment from Dave Chappelle's Killling Them Softly: "Because I'm dressed this way, does not make me a ho... but you're in a ho's uniform."
By now, the day was starting to get tiring and I was finding myself getting upset at the most insignificant things. My feet hurt like hell from walking around in those heels in my stupid attempt to look cute and I was really tired of all the attention guys were giving me. Even them opening the doors for me was starting to irritate me further.
I can open my own damned doors!
And I was really tired of having to pee sitting down, or crouching over a toilet.
As the last class of the day ended, a girl from the class grabbed me and pulled me into the ladies room and handed me a panty-liner. She pointed out my jeans and how there was a slightly inconspicuous sign of leakage. After situating myself with the liner, I was just ready to go back home.
Once at home, first thing I did was kick those damned high heels off. Then I showered up and prepared to relax for the rest of the day; to watch TV and do homework. As nightfall came, I felt the need to relieve one last bit of sexual frustration before I fell asleep. And once I was done—I was done. A day's worth of stress had been expunged from my thoughts and my body through a tidal wave of ecstasy. It was at that moment he pillows beckoned for me.
The next day, the alarm on my cell phone went off at 6:30. Things again felt different, but I didn't notice what was different until the alarm when off for the third time at 7:00 AM. My hands rested on my chest, and I could feel my chest muscles as opposed to a mound of flesh. I reached down and I, once again, had factory standard original equipment for a male homo sapien. Life as a woman was far too hard for me.
I just couldn't do it. My experience gave me a new respect for the daily plight of a woman. I wonder if a girl were in my position, and became a dude for a day that she would have that same kind of epiphany.
Rolling out of bed in a zombie-like state, I made my way to the bathroom and chuckled as I looked down at the toilet. I could stand up to go this time.