I should have been born a boy

This morning was easy to handle partly because the dress that I was supposed to wear for work was already laid out.  There was no need to iron it nor the the blazer that I was supposed to wear with it.  What a hassle it was being a woman biologically.  “Management” had superfluous requirements specific to my gender that necessitated much of my time; time that I could have much better use of for other purposes besides making myself pretty for other people.  Unfortunately, I belong to a “plastic” industry where presentation is always the first order of the day.  Where was my lipstick?  I had forgotten where I placed it, which could be about anywhere depending on where I had been, which I would not usually remember considering that I was usually in so many places within such a short span of time.  Bullocks!  Here was a scatterbrain attempting to keep herself in order for the first 30 minutes of her life standing up getting ready for work.  Why do I keep asking myself about whether it is really necessary to go through this transformation?   The most important fact is that I was bathed and clothed.  Looking at what I have, I didn’t have any of the following – any bottle of lotion, pressed powder, deodorant, mascara or eyeshadow “nonsense” etc.  I didn’t even carry a comb in my femine-looking bag that Mother had given me for Christmas.  Naturally, I preferred my unisex black leather Prada bag that fits all the things I expected in my own bag – a book, a file, my wallet of debit and credit cards, coins, pens, a cellphone, a packet of peanuts perhaps, an umbrella (a must for those you-never-know-when-it-rains days), my housekeys, and my bluetooth headset etc.

…and so the ordeal continues on a daily basis, 5 days a week.   Over the years, I’d learnt to remind the people who were going to buy me clothes to get those that required minimal maintenance and didn’t require ironing.  I decided that unless it was my wedding day, I was never going to wear anything white because it soiled easily, which could be seen easily or the creases that I’d made screamed “Look at me!”  Another challenge was or is being “adequately” covered so that my cleavage, my legs (looking like a map of scars from my provincial or outdoor  activities) or my feet etc didn’t prove to be the scandal of the day at the office.   Everyday is a lesson or a discovery of more Filipino corporate etiquette indeed.  I never thought I would have to worry about the valley my breasts would create or perhaps my brassiere just got in the way.   I would have actually preferred not to wear any but I am in a society where it is ESSENTIAL to hide the nipples from the public eye but ultra-mini skirts and spaghetti-strapped plunging blouses are acceptable.   In fact, I don’t wear anything in my own apartment when I’m alone.   If I were at my parents’ house,  there was propriety to observe so I do wear clothes but nothing is nothing more liberating than nudity in the comfort of your own domain or at the beach where “less is best”  is what I preach so Brazilian bikinis are absolutely my cup of tea.  That is the least I can do for a society mentally-unprepared for my audacity.  People seem to have forgotten that we enter this world naked as a newborn baby…and I wonder who invented stockings or pantyhoses.  Some women cannot seem to live without them.  Would that be a sign of insecurity?  No one needs a magnifying glass to look closely (in analyzing my legs) at the “potholes”, birthmarks, and any other form of evidence to suggest my pastime.  This reminds me that the world is still monstrous enough to dissipate my boredom.  There is so much more to see.  I am thankful for my feet!  My one advice to people today who have grown accustomed to sitting more in their cars or taking taxies only too willingly is to use their feet more often because essentially, if their goals were to look good, walking would  really help without any additional cost.  We underestimate our legs and feet but I don’t condone abusing them.  There needs to be balance because they can be a woman’s main asset.  That itself is another challenge; my challenge that I try to remedy with periodic trips to the the salon for a massage and pedicures.  I just haven’t found the time to ask a man for his comments.

How so much runs through my mind remains a mystery before I have even attempted to use the bathroom. Still, tackling time management to get myself dressed and punctual for work is a talent I might have.  Its marriage with multi-tasking has allowed me to maximize the number of hours I need for sleep and accomplish the errands of the day (and of the next day’s, if possible)   It never ceases to amaze me how most women have made putting on makeup a religion strictly abided by.  When I was much younger, Mother could spend 2 hours in front of the mirror while my lower extremities would have gone dead by then watching her prepare for work or a party.  Then, I never understood how much time was dedicated to a cheek or eyelash to achieve the “perfect” look.  I never understood and I never will.  I do not think that women have to embrace such a routine for the throngs of men out there who probably don’t deserve the effort they have made.  As far as I am concerned, I just need one man who will have to make do with what he has or does not have with me.  The irony is that with more than 2 billion people on Earth, it is still THAT difficult to find just one person.  Now, I ask myself again why God had created Man and Woman to complement each other.   Is it not just possible to have no need whatsoever for the opposite gender?  Is it not sufficient to just acknowledge each other’s existence without complicating relationships by the attachments we make?  Is it not just so funny that I still have all these questions when I have the answers already.   I feel better being dumb or at least pretending to be because I refuse to embrace the “impracticalities” of reality.  Nothing is more depressing than the truth about the superior intelligence of homo sapiens, which has led them to reduce themselves to decoration pieces with no guarantee for rewards.