I posted the other day on Facebook that in my next life I wanted to come back as a man. This is my favorite part of FB, seeing the responses one gets back from posts like this. Trust me, they are varied and very amusing. But despite the fact that I very much like being a woman, I do think there are many advantages to being a man, and hence, thought that in my next life it may be nice to give it a whirl – universe, just to be clear, I’d like to be a homosapien, not a male donkey, beetle or buffalo. So for today’s post I thought I’d go through all the reasons why I would like to come back as a man; and of course tomorrow, I will happily go through all the reasons I love being a woman and would like to remain so (just for those of you wondering if I’m considering a gender reassignment procedure).

Numero Uno: Men can pee standing up. In fact, they can pee in bottles, against walls, in holes, shoot at a target, and the best part, pee in a bush without running the risk of wetting themselves or peeing on their shoes. This is a huge plus on a road trip or when is determined not to use a public toilet.

Secondly, men age well. Or shall I say, society deems that men age well. In fact, men become distinguished, as they get older; men become mature, men grow into their looks. Men go gray, and suddenly it’s ‘wow, isn’t he such an attractive man rocking salt and pepper hair.’ Women do not get treated so kindly. Women go gray and are judged for not running to the hair salon. Women age, women wrinkle, women get Botox because god forbid their face shows sign of age or life experience. Now, there is plenty of pressure we heap upon our own gender to do these ridiculous things to our faces, but saying that, let’s look at how many male actors are getting parts in their fifties in comparison to women, or how many men are running off with their fifty year old assistants (as opposed to their assistants' 22 year old daughters)….Distinguished - Old. See the difference.

Thirdly, men are paid more and men advance up the corporate (and creative) ladder more quickly. It’s a fact. Men also do not run the risk of sexual harassment in the workplace – I’m sure it happens, but the statistics say that one in four women are harassed whilst men, well I’m sure they’d be delighted to be hit on at the office. Men also don’t get ogled when they pass construction sites. In fact, they don’t get ogled unless they’re performing at a Chippendale’s club. Their breasts aren’t the focal point when they’re having a conversation with someone and they don’t get judged for wearing a tight skirt to work. Furthermore, they aren’t questioned about their sexuality in court when a crime of violence has been committed against them, and they don’t get accused of sleeping their way to the top because our male dominated society would of course assume that a man ascended on merit alone. But women, well gosh; I’m sure it was because she had long legs and worked her feminine wiles to her advantage.

Another reason to be a man, less body fat (bastards). Yes, you heard me; it’s an enviable fact that we women just have to come to terms with. Moreover, if men do gain weight, somehow it’s just accepted by all, not scrutinised mercilessly (wow, she has really let herself go) – in fact, if they have money, a man can seemingly get as fat as he wants (I'm talking to you Flavio Briatore). The King has a huge belly and he pulled two Polish women on the tube the other day purely by smiling with a mouth full of food and laughing unabashedly. You see, a man with a personality and a belly is going a lot further than a portly woman with no 'discipline'.

But the kicker…at least for this mother of a toddler, men have children and their lives don’t get turned on their ass like a wooden shack in hurricane season. They don’t get pregnant and get all the complications that go along with it, they don’t have to leave work to have 'said' baby, they don’t have to choose between a career and being a stay at home mother, they don’t to go to work then come home and make dinner, do the washing and care for the children (many certainly do, but often have the choice. That’s the key word here). And they don’t have to deal with the judgment and guilt over sticking their child(ten) in daycare at 6 months to go back to work. Men simply have choices women don’t have. For the most part, and this will vary per couple obviously, men can be a parent, see their kids after work and sleep in on the weekends – (unless their wives are smart and have demanded a weekend lie-in).

So why do I want to come back as a man in my next life, cause it’s a man’s world baby. Or so they tell me. 

Well our road trip has come to an end and the King is back on his proverbial London throne, so to speak - not that he doesn’t spiritually take it with him wherever he goes. Needless to say, we are both sun-kissed, jetlagged as anything, and the King has managed to amass even more cars than before we left. My living room is starting to resemble an international speedway, but hey, you can’t come between a royal and his passions.

After a holiday, there’s nothing I like better than reflecting on a successful sojourn (there’s also nothing I like LESS than unpacking so procrastinating is key) and reliving all the good bits. I assure you, the four airline flights during our little trip are not one of my more cherished memories. Yesterday while the King screamed the bloody plane down and I was eyeballed by every person in cabin for my inability (apparently) to control my child’s outburst, I must profoundly thank the steward for coming over to me and offering me a stiff drink. Thankfully, the King swiftly passed out thereafter and was kind enough to allow me three inches on the seat next to his feet. Let's just say, the chiropractor will be one of my first visits in the next week.

So overall, what were some of the overriding things that stuck with me from the journey? Hmm, let’s see. My son's appetite stuns pretty much anyone that crosses his path. In fact, his ability to eat this trip even awed me, and I thought I saw it all upon meeting my husband...Seattle, while incredibly beautiful, rivals England as the wettest place on earth...as long as the King has his bag of cars he will set up home anywhere – and more importantly, if that home itself contains toy cars, well even better (prepare yourself for car theft as well)...stocked pantries and drawers of food prove a prodigious challenge for the King’s minders (ahem, me)....grandparents and a trampoline are the greatest gifts a mother could ask for, especially if you combine the two (serious amusement). Followed closely by being able to play a DVD in the car during LA rush hour - a true blessing and necessity. Sadly, now the King thinks all cars should carry such capabilities and is quite annoyed when the black cab doesn't provide such a service.

Another holiday occurrence, the King strangely developed – and undeveloped, it happens fast in the world of a 2 year old, a fear of dogs, water, and slides. Thankfully all seem to be subsiding thanks to a little loving push in the right direction. “You love the pool, see, pool, niiiice. And look there’s a dog in it going down a slide!” Might as well conquer all those phobias at once.

Then there was the abundance of family and friends who were always around, which the King relished in. In fact, he spent the morning walking around our flat calling out to his grandfather with a puzzled look on his face. Either that or he was demanding to return to his Grandfather's house, suddenly realizing that city living puts a serious cramp on his need to spread out. The only thing that now scares me about returning home is now that he knows the joys of having other children around, he may start demanding I provide him with more heirs. Furthermore, the lack of other children around on a daily basis means that I am back to being a one woman entertainment center, which does not bode well for my old jetlagged body....thank god for the thirty hot wheel cars lined up on the sofa in the living room.

Happy Monday All.