Nearly 20 weeks pregnant now. Scan early next week to confirm the girliness of the fetus.
I have now come clean with work. Come clean with family. People say that a girl won’t be so bad. And no, she won’t – as long as she’s bloody cool like me. But I bet I still get given pink tat. Or bows. And what if she wants a princess bedroom? I was talking to a friend yesterday who was saying that I’d done very well on hiding it so far (I have no bump – although last time I had even less bumpage), and that a girl wouldn’t be so bad. And that she isn’t girly and she coped with two girls. I then glanced at her youngest (about 3 months) and she’s got these on her feet:
No, not girly AT ALL then. Then I said, yes, but (a la Vicki Pollard) when ‘normal’ women say they’re not girly they don’t quite seem to understand. She then went on to mention eyebrow threading and a wedding fair in one sentence as if to prove my point. I’ve said to work colleagues before “I’m not girly” and they tend to take it in their stride and only when they really get to know me do they truly realise what I mean. And then they say, “you’re not girly at all, are you?”. Well, no, I did say. Because when most people say “I’m not girly” they mean that they only wear make-up on special occasions and they’d consider wearing a wedding dress (why, dear lord?) and they quite like going shopping to buy new clothes. I am truly like a man. When I say I don’t wear make-up, I genuinely mean I have never, ever, even so much as attempted to wear it, in my whole life. Not now, not as a child, teenager or in my 20s. I never wanted to, I thought it was silly (I still do). I don’t have my ears pierced – why would anyone? Holes in your ears? Just odd, I reckon. I wouldn’t know what to do with make-up if given it. I don’t own any skirts or dresses. Or a hairdryer (much to the consternation of visitors). Or an iron. When I’m invited to a wedding, I get all stressed because I have no clothes other than jeans, t-shirts and trainers. Mostly mens. Although I do have hips, so trousers usually are women’s. I do have some black work trousers (Primark – £5 polyester specials) that I keep at work with some black flat work shoes (also kept at work). I don’t wear blouses, or lady tops or jewellery. I spend about £20 a year on clothes. I still wear stuff from when I was 14. I have to put my work trousers on when I go to a wedding. I often get mistaken for a photographer at weddings because I like my photography and have a large SLR and I’m dressed all in black. I don’t do skin care, I wash all my body in one bottle of shower gel. I don’t wash my hair in anything other than value shampoo. I do have long hair but that’s because it’s low maintenance – men have to have theirs cut a lot and I couldn’t be arsed with that. I probably get it chopped once every couple of years. I don’t pluck or de-hair. Other than ingrown muff hairs which I enjoy pushing out – but that’s for entertainment and not for vanity.
I used to wish I was a boy. From the earliest time I can remember (4 or 5) I wanted to be a bloke as girls just get crappy stuff. My brother (18 months younger than me) used to get the coolest presents at birthdays and Christmas and I’d get useless girly tat that my mother would make me write thank-you letters for. I used to wish I had a winkie as it would be easier to wee with one of those. No awkward crouches behind trees trying to hide your arse from fellow walkers whilst simultaneously avoiding nettles going up your crack.
My sister came out as a lesbian a long time ago now and my mother’s helpful first comment to me was “gosh, if it had been one of you, I would have put money on you”. My sister is not overly girly but does do the dressing up to go out, wears dresses and does the traditional lady stuff. She’s certainly no butch or manly lesbian. I am very heterosexual – never fancied a go with a lady, because I like men. Hairy men. Real men. Not these manicured fake, hairless men. I really don’t like the idea of delving in lady flaps either. Anyway, by the by.
This is why I worry about a girl. I can’t empathise with them. I don’t understand them. I think that most of what they do is silly. If she wants to wear make-up, I will cry I think. Like I’ve failed in some way. I have a step-daughter who is 12 and she does the make-up and girl stuff and I hate it. I think it’s so superficial and vacuous. Can’t she play with lego and break her leg or something? Why would anyone put it on – it can’t be for themselves as they can’t see it – so they are making themselves look a certain way for other people. Why?
I understand that I’m wrong. And sad. And that these are all *my* issues. And I don’t say these things to her or any other women or girls I know. But I think them. And I can write it here because it’s hidden and secret. And those are my worries. I will love her, however and whomever she turns out to be, because, to be frank, that’s how motherhood seems to work, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll like it. I can’t possibly dress her in anything girly – I can’t even contemplate it and I worry because of how I am, I will damage her in some way growing up. I simply won’t be able to buy her a Disney princess outfit. It just won’t be possible for me. I also worry about her weeing outside. Silly, I know. But when we’re hiking and the like, my son just whips his todger out – but I expect I’ll have to do a holding thing. And then there will be wee and flaps everywhere, most likely all over my fingers.
Just give me a willy anyday.