Why I Should Have Been a Boy (But Iím Glad Iím Not)
By Mary Lang
My folks had a pattern going with us kids, but my being a girl broke it. Itís like this: girl, boy, girl, girl (ME), girl, boy. So you see I broke the pattern. I should have been a boy.
No matter! Dad pretty much treated me like one of the boys. When I could reach the pedals on the tractors and farm trucks, he taught me to drive. There were many summer days that I would ride high on my tractor seat cultivating the weeds out of the corn rows. After harvest, I would be sent to take a truck load of grain to the grain elevator in our town. Back then, that was boyís work. I should have been a boy.
Another boyís job was to ride herd on the cattle. I loved it. This was akin to the cowboys of old keeping an eye on their herds in open range. Dreaming of cowboys, I would sit bareback on my pony all day with my water jug strapped to my back. My job was to make sure the cows didnít cross the road or wander into the neighborís grain field. I should have been a boy.
Dad didnít go hunting often, but once in awhile, when the gophers were digging too many holes in the cow pasture, he would ďgo gopher hunting.Ē Every now and then he would take one or two of us kids. When I got to go, I shot with such accuracy even my older brother was envious. I should have been a boy.
Working like a boy didnít bother me a bit. I got to be outdoors; free of the stuffy kitchen, cleaning, washing and ironing. I had a Mom, two older sisters, and a grandmother who did all that. And they did it very well I might add. I hated it. I should have been a boy.
What I did mind was that when I became a teenager, I started to compare myself to other girls Ė my sisters, girls in my school Ė they all had dainty hands and small feet. It was depressing. Compared to their delicate frames, I felt square, like a boy.
I have short, stubby fingers, but boy are they strong. I have prominent facial features and big feet! I should have grown into them and topped at least 5í 10Ē, but I only got to be 5í4Ē. I always felt gypped, thinking I could have been stretched out another four inches to be long and lean. But I sport a stocky body that sure is strong. In my prime I could have held my own in any womenís body building competition Ė had I even known that kind of thing existed. I didnít lift weights, I tossed hay bales. I should have been a boy.
The hip thing when I was in high school was to test your masculinity and femininity with a four question quiz. Would you like to take it? I managed to be 75% masculine. I should have been a boy.
Well anyway, hereís the quiz.
Question 1: Look at your fingernails. (Did you do it?)
Youíre masculine if you looked at them palm up, fingers curled down. Youíre feminine if you straightened out your hand, palm down and held your fingers out. Point value 25%
Question 2: Drink water from a glass. (Did you do it?)
Did you look into the glass or over the top?
If you looked into the glass, add 25% to your feminine side.
Question 3: Strike a match. (Be careful. Did you do it?)
Did you strike the match away from you, or did you strike toward yourself?
If you struck the match away from you, add 25% to your feminine side.
Question 4: Look directly into someoneís eyes for about 30 seconds. (Did you do it?) If your eyes didnít waver or you didnít blink first, chalk up 25% to your masculine side. (My questioner blew into my eyes causing me to blink Ė no fair.)
It wasnít my imagination. Even tests showed I should have been a boy.
However, I finally accepted my feminine side and found a guy who thought I was kind of cute. To have him in my life makes me glad Iím a girl.
God had his reasons for making me who I am and breaking my folksí children pattern. I canít claim to understand his intention and why I felt so inelegant. I think Iíve learned to make the best of it, even if I havenít gotten any daintier over the years. I thank God for my extraordinary good health and a quick mind. I thank God for my faithful life-partner who introduced me to a life of good humor. I thank God for the blessing of two healthy children.
But I still analyze: being in touch with my masculine side has had its benefits: my strength Ė physical and emotional. Donít get me wrong, I can and do cry sometimes, but not often. The strength in my body made giving birth a lot easier Ė a five hour labor for my first child - a beautiful girl, and a four hour labor for my boy child (see a pattern emerging?)
Another thing about having a strong masculine side is that I donít freak out easily and dirt doesnít bother me. (Comes in handy when you have kids.) Things like bugs, spiders and mice donít get me screaming and climbing up on chairs. As a matter of fact, I have had to rescue many a co-worker from bugs and spiders in the office. So I still I wonder, maybe, I should have been a boy?
Very well written article, Mary. I was drawn here by the title. Why? Well, because I probably "should have been a boy." :::smile::: Hay bales... ah, I remember all too well. Jumping fences, hooking grasshoppers and stringing fish. I'm 5'2" and wear little boys' shoes. Ladies' shoes just don't fit right. Petite as I am, people look at me like I'm crazy because I buy parts to work on my own vehicle. But deep down, I'm extremely feminine. I did score a 75% on your test though. Oh well. Still got my eyes on a good looking man of God. Hopefully, he'll see me as a cutie someday too.
Now if that isn't the cutest writing I have enjoyed in a while! LOL You sound like you are a fun person, and very much in-touch with the great person you are, as God made you!! Happy New Year!