Woman For A Day (Part. 1)

*******WARNING*******

This post is a little weird, as it discusses the subject of being the opposite gender for a period of 24 hours. Plenty of guys have talked about it, and if I followed my first instinct it would have been a very short post. Something like "woke up, played with my boobs all day, went to bed." But that's not very creative, is it? So I delved a little deeper.

Be warned.

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I had writer’s block (or apathy, not sure which) yesterday, and it has flowed into today as well. Not much has been going on around here. Still, I feel an obligation to myself to write. It’s my way of staying in touch with myself just as much as staying in touch with any of you readers out there.

ChickyBabe did an interesting post today asking who anonymous bloggers share their joy of blogging with. It’s a great question. She also linked to a post by Andy about motivation for blogging, which was very insightful.

ChickyBabe has become my favorite daily read. As such, I’m going to do a “male” version of one of her recent posts.

If I could spend 24 hours as a woman, how would I spend my time?

Let’s get a few logistics out of the way. It’s my fantasy, so I get to choose what I look like (and a few other select details).

I’d be about 5’8” tall. I figure 4 inches shorter than the traditional 6 foot tall male would be good enough. I’d have blonde hair, a sun-kissed face with a few freckles and a nice figure. My hair would be about shoulder length…maybe a little longer but not longer than my shoulder blades. I wouldn’t be “perfect” super-model pretty. Real men (with substance) don’t go after that crap. But I would have nice hips, a cute ass (not too big but big enough to give a skirt definition) and nice breasts. Probably a large B cup to medium C cup.

I would have had my period approximately 5 days prior to waking up a woman. Of all the joys of womanhood I want to enjoy during this trip, a period is not one of them.

I’d be single. I have a very close friend who has shown me what it’s like to be a wife, and that’s not how I want to spend my day and evening. No thanks, maybe some other time.

I wake up. Dude, I’ve got boobs! These things are SOOO COOL! Of course I’m going to play with them for a minute or two. I like seeing how the lie differently on my chest when I’m horizontal versus when I’m sitting up. Already, I’m glad I didn’t ask for a D cup; these are heavy enough as they are!

I have to pee. Women always have to pee first thing in the morning. Out of bed and…hey, I’m in silk P.J.s! Practical but comfortable. I think I need to shave my legs, though.

In the bathroom, I sit and…whoa, that’s weird. I’m so used to being able to aim! What did my wife do yesterday? Oh yeah, wipe from front to back. I’m a girl now, hygiene is important. There are so many details…

Back to bed for a minute longer. Of course, I bring myself to orgasm. It’s different but pretty darn cool. As a guy, it all just explodes all at once. As a girl, it builds from my tummy and totally freaks my bean. That’s cool. (Oh, don’t act so surprised. Of course it’s the first thing I’d do! Like you’re any different.)

Back to the bathroom, I put on Prince’s Hits CD and cue up “Kiss.” In the shower, I have no problem hitting all the notes. Damn, I’ve got a good voice! I try a few flourishes in the otherwise familiar song and think to myself “Wow, J, you sound GREAT!”

Uh oh. J isn’t going to work as my name today. Too masculine. Mental note to self, check driver’s license when out of the shower to see what name is.

The shower gel feels good, and I dig having all this hair to wash. After lathering up my legs, I tentatively take the razor in my hands. This is going to take a moment. Carefully, I do the work and manage to not cut myself.

I dry off with a big fluffy towel and stand naked in front of the mirror. Hey, I requested my butt not be too big! Maybe it will look better after I dress. I’m pretty, I decide…and I’m not going to compare myself to other women today. I tell myself to remember I requested to not have a perfect body. (Why did I do that? Why, why, why?)

Now comes the part of the day where I stand in front of my closet for a half an hour trying to decide the exactly perfect shade of blouse and skirt. I already know that I’m wearing some “fuck me” lingerie underneath, but I need to look professional on the outside. “What would ChickyBabe wear?” I ask myself. I settle on a nice skirt and a long-sleeve silky blouse. The pink top makes me look pretty and feel powerful.

With Purple Rain playing in the background, I take a stab at make-up. I’ve paid enough attention to not be a complete idiot in this department. The basic goal is to not look like some cheap ho. Oh, and leave the lipstick for last. I’m not sure why, I just know that’s what girls do.

Brushing and drying my hair…already I miss being a man. As a guy I tousle some gel in my hair and I’m off and running.

Damn, I look good. If I do say so myself. Maybe the skirt is a little "hippie-ish", but not too much.

Off to work. Man, I look good in this car. I’m getting looks from all the Mexicans at the corner by Home Depot, which creeps me out a little. I deny them direct eye contact, throw the car into first, and speed away. As I pull into my spot at work, I realize I still don’t know what my name is! Opening my purse and pulling out my wallet, I take a look and…

Jessica. Jessica? Why Jessica? Other than my initials stay the same?

Upon arriving at my desk I find that I go by "Jess." That's better. I like it. (editor's note: No, that's not my REAL name.)

At work, I carry myself with pride and a sense of power and authority. At lunch, I can feel the eyes on my ass. I’m friendly and chatty (but not overly talkative) and I take pride in being beautiful and smart. It may be a men’s world around the office, but I am NOT a passive individual. I have a whole different kind of power as a woman, and I'm not afraid to use it!

After lunch, I’m invited to go to the restroom with other women. Shit! I forgot they go in groups! I go, of course, and just follow their lead. They ask me while applying lipstick if I’m still up for going to the bar tonight. I am, of course. I'm a little weirded out by the whole group bathroom break, and it shows. Hopefully not too much...I'd hate to give myself away!

After work I go work out…Being the kind of girl who goes to the gym to actually WORK OUT, I don’t dress like a slut. Sports bra, t-shirt, work-out pants. Still, I enjoy that eyes are drawn to me as I do my cardio on the StairMaster. A couple of the guys catch my eye…