The Man in Me

He's screaming to get out and live his intended life.

I realize that statement might sound odd, but being told that someone thought my blog was an homage to  hemaphrodites was too. Seriously. This happened.

I get it, Born Without a Y, although technically hermo's (heard it here first!) have XX and XY chromosomes so they in fact would be born with a Y.  My only hope is that upon reading the blog, and not just the title, the realization was made that I'm just some fabulous female with a lot to say. Quite eloquently I might add.

If I was a hemaphrodite, I suppose I might be pining for a penis and a blog might be the appropriate place to discuss such emotions. But I assure you I am all woman and there is nothing intersexual about me. One male sex organ in my home is quite enough, thank you.

While the hermo thing falls under the category of "doesn't happen every day" and is interesting in itself, I think there is a funnier element to be told. It came to be while my friend's new boyfriend--well, actually, her new boyfriend's friend--was checking her out on Facebook. I thought only chics had freaky Facebook stalking friends? Maybe he's a hemaphrodite.

Anyway, this questionable friend found that she was a fan of the blog (naturally) and proceeded to tell her boyfriend he figured out what was wrong with her. Something had to be, because people like her don't exist. Now, there is plenty wrong with her, and all my friends for that matter--that's why we're friends. Outward perfection blended with just enough internal psychosis to keep it interesting. But she isn't a hemaphrodite. The upper half of her body can tell you more than I ever could.

Well, now that THAT's cleared up.

Should you find I have inspired an interest in learning more about this subject, I recommend the following:

Jaime Lee Curtis
Middlesex
Boys Don't Cry

Happy Hermo Hunting!

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