Things I’d Do If I Wasn’t Afraid To Appear Masculine

Chuck a packet of candy on the table when it’s my turn to host the mother’s group.

Reddit recently asked men what they would do if they weren’t afraid of appearing “feminine.” “I’d knit so hard, bro,” was one response. “Drape myself in velvet” was another. “Wax my butt crack” was unexpected, but it did get me wondering what I’d do if the question was reversed.

So here are the things I’d do if I wasn’t afraid of appearing masculine.

Wear shapeless jeans that I’d only paid 30 bucks for.

Every. Damn. Day. And not the designer “boyfriend” style that cost a ton and you have to wear heels with so you don’t look like a slob.

Chuck a packet of candy on the table when it’s my turn to host the mother’s group.

Followed by a “What do I know about baking, right?” smile-shrug. And then the other mothers laugh because they’re just be so impressed I showed up with anything.

Grow a beer gut and genuinely think it’s awesome and funny.

I’d draw a lipstick mouth under my belly-button and make children laugh at birthday parties. (Then their parents fall all over themselves congratulating me on being “SO GREAT with kids.”)

Not offer to help in the kitchen at dinner parties.

Just sit back, chillax, and let everyone enjoy my company.

Interrupt people when they carry on.

Forget “mansplaining”—I just want to be able to say “yeah, I get it” without someone having a meltdown. Just because women have better life expectancy, it doesn’t mean we want to spend it smiling politely while someone tells us stuff we already know or is B.S.

Oh, and speak over people when they interrupt me.

F**k like a man.

This one is from a friend. Truly. “Because most porn is from a male perspective, in my fantasies I’m often more masculine. I’ve always wanted to just [she made grunting sound] pound stuff. The other night I told my boyfriend and he agreed, so I dry-humped him from behind. We both had a happy ending.”

But basically, we wanna f*** like a dude, and not have to look like Sharon Stone when we do it.

Be socially lax.

Not send thank-you cards. Or reply to every text. I’d get straight to the point in emails, waste no time with padding just to be “nice” (“Hope you had a great summer/Christmas!” “I was just wondering if you’d had a chance to…but totally fine if you haven’t!”)

Instead of thinking I was rude, the other person would admire my assertiveness.

Swagger with my chest out at the pool. Dish out winks.

Why? Because now that I’m breastfeeding, I have once-in-a-lifetime awesome boobs and the world needs to admire them. Quietly. As we do with man-pecs.

Get back into martial arts

I wish I hadn’t quit just before I got to black belt because my sparring partner mocked me for looking “scary” (read “un-fuckable”) while fighting. No one looks like a Charlie’s freakin’ Angel when they’re red-faced and sweating with their hair plastered to their face.

Get my hair cut short, without wearing extra makeup/a skirt to offset it.

Women are allowed to “play” with masculinity as long as we’re still overtly feminine (think conventionally beautiful Dakota Johnson dancing girlishly in a man’s shirt after sex in Fifty Shades. Or by contrast, buff soccer players dressing up in drag because—hilarious!)

Walk around with my shirt off in summer.

Actually, just stop wearing a bra. They’re hot, uncomfortable, and I ONLY wear one so I don’t cop stares in public. (Sure, some large-busted ladies find them supportive. The point is, WE WANT THE OPTION.)

Let my thighs relax on public transport.

In fact, take up space, full-stop.

Have a mid-life crisis.

This would be no Diane Lane Under the Tuscan Sun “kids have grown up” holiday. I’d just take off completely from all family responsibilities, knowing someone else has it covered. And no one would give me shit about it either.

Earn more money. 

And laugh when someone offered me a fraction of my co-worker’s salary.

Alice Williams is a Melbourne writer. Follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

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