Estrogen Made a Man Out of Me.

I've been called many things in life, many of them unprintable, but I'm rarely ever referred to as a "Man." Dude? sure. Guy? frequently. Fella? only by my dentist. But, "Man"? almost never.

So unused to that descriptor am I, that I felt misplaced in the line up of "Men on Women" next Tuesday night. There I am, listed next to genuine men's men. Some I know, some I don't. I mean these are guys with, like, chest hair, and mortgages, and *gulp* wives. All I have are shoes, and tupperwear, and three sewing machines. Do I fit in here?

It's not that I don't think I'm a man. I know I'm a man. And if you're cute, single, male, and ask really nicely, I can prove it. But, I rarely feel like a "Man" in the pop culture sense. Maybe it's because the word "man" has come to represent all things opposite of "Woman." In the grand tradtion of the compare-and-contrast comedy routine, "Man" has taken on the connotations of all things anti-feminine, de classe, and troglodyte. Men, after all, are from Mars, they live in caves, they play with power tools, and don't know how to change diapers. "Men" want to watch "the game"; Women want to watch "their stories." "Man" is Fred Flinstone; "Woman" is "Carrie Bradshaw." In the lexicon of stereotyped language, "Man" is King, and anyone who's met me would likely agree I veer closer to Queen. Perhaps that's why I'm so unaccustomed to falling under the Man Category [Insert Dirty Joke Here.]. I'm fine being called a guy- being from the southwest, I call most everyone "guys"- but call me a man, and I start looking over my shoulder to see who you're really talking to.

But, who am I to allow stereotypical language to take away my title? Isn't that part of what Estrogen Fest is about, breaking down stereotypes, crumbling preconceived notions? Yes! And, for that, I am tinkled pink to be included right where I belong in the Estrogen Fest "Man" category. Tinkled pink in the most masculine way, of course.

Thanks, Estrogen Fest. I am Man, hear me squeal with delight!