Every 6-year-old girl wants to be a 6-year-old boy at some point. Guaranteed. It’s like a compulsory rite of passage. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. I just know that’s the way stuff works. But, hey, you know what? It’s all good. As long as you’re over all such wishful thinking by the time you’re 15. Or 18. At the very worst, 19 and a half. Because, let’s face it, if you aren’t over the fact that you’re going to be a female for the rest of your life by the time you hit 20, you are in a bad way. And I’m not talking bad, the song. I’m talking baddie bad. I’m talking ‘aw, shucks…I’m actually some chick’s mother-in-law’ bad. No amount of good can come out of shirking your femaleness. Trust me. I should know. I’m slowly (but surely) fiddling towards 30 but I still want to be a boy. Badly. Not a Justin Beiber-esque boy, surely. Just a normal boy. A normal boy with normal hair. It’s not the stuff of Modern African Womanity and it definitely never earns me any beauty-and-the-bistro points but hey, it is what it is. Some of us have issues; we are the folks Freud would have psycho-analysed for free.
Anyway, enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Continue reading