Don't get me wrong, I have no interest in being a woman. No, not until I'm at least 70. Believe me, if I was blessed with a vagina I would hide it...oh boy would I hide it. I'd grow up and go through my 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, and 60s and I wouldn't tell a soul. As far as anyone would know, I'd be all man. But then one day some young whippersnapper will come up to me in a narrow hallway not big enough to pass slow walking old people and he'll say "move it along grandpa" and at that point I'll know that it's time. At that point I'll turn around and ask him to repeat himself and when he does, THEN I will reveal my true self. Oh yes, ladies and gentleman, I will turn on my heels and pull down my pants and show that guy my old wrinkly vagina and then cue the awe...oh yes, the awe my friends. Cue that awe and that soap opera music because as that dude cringes in fear of the sight before his eyes I will tell him...
"Not grandpa, my boy. I'm all grandma."
And I would go through all this because there is one, single, solitary right afforded to grandmas that is given to no one else. That one thing is the way grandmas can make outrageously flattering statements like "Oh Jimmy, I didn't recognize you because I thought you were a movie star."
And because they are grandmas...you believe it.
I need that.
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