menstrual cramps, PMS, labour pains, yeast infections, et al) would most
certainly result in so vast a number of us choosing the male
--equipment-- (what, is this a trick question?) that it is difficult, if
not impossible, to envision any woman being born into this world at all.
To me, it seems less a case of penis envy (Sigmund Freud having lived in
altogether too chivalrous a time period for such --plain talk-- as I
offer here) than it is one of vagina abhorrence from the standpoint of
the --would-be tenant-- in contemplating a role as --owner-proprietor--.
Alas, for reasons known only to our Creator, (almost exactly) half of us
come out on the losing end of the coin toss. If things seem pretty
--even steven-- (leaving aside the fact that a penis, self-evidently,
constitutes an anatomical --presence-- and a vagina, self-evidently, an
anatomical --absence--) over the course of the first ten or eleven years
in the life of a boy and a girl there does, alas, --come the day . . .
--
It would take a very hard-hearted individual, indeed (someone like
myself, for instance) to find anything amusing in the level of
Mortification at the Sheer Cosmic Unfairness of It All with which a
young girl must greet the news that every twenty-eight days or so for
decades-upon-decades stretching as far into the future as a ten- or
eleven-year-old can possibly conceive -- that a --little friend will be
coming to visit--. A --little friend-- who (it seems) will be just as
catastrophic and humiliating a mess as the one who has (just now) paid a
first most unwelcome social call.
No one wants to be a woman.
Taxing the limits of my own not-inconsiderable imagination, I ha
.
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