Okay. Maybe it’s not the penis, but a different aspect of the male appetite that I envy. Allow me to give an example. Today I went online and there was no shortage of advice on how to shed the potential calories stored after the Thanksgiving feast. Most of the accompanying photographs showed women running on treadmills or women drinking water or women eating half a grape in penance…you get my drift. Not to generalize, but in general, :), women do most of the holiday decorating, grocery shopping and cooking. That takes a lot of energy, but then we deny ourselves a satisfying amount of celebration food because we might gain an ounce or three. I saw one online article touting how many calories are consumed tasting the food as it is prepared. Well, so be it. I need to know what I’m serving those I love and the only way I can do that is to check by sampling the flavor. Women feel guilty for enjoying themselves in even the most moderate way and are easily media blasted into dieting and exercising immediately after the Black Friday sales are shopped. (Marketers want women to have plenty of energy to spend money, so eat well and drink those $6 coffee caramel lattes until the merchandise is home ladies.)
Today my husband called around mid-morning and asked if I’d like to have lunch with him. Given the abbreviated amount of time he has we opted to meet at a local Wendy’s for fast food and slow conversation. I arrived about fifteen minutes before he did and enjoyed the people watching. It took me all of sixty seconds to realize I was one of only three women customers. The rest of the patrons were men. At first I thought it was the proximity to a Menard’s that brought in the male appetite (I know! More generalizing!), but then I noticed there were a lot of construction-logoed vehicles in the parking lot. As I pretended to be absorbed in watching out the window I listened to what these men were ordering. It went something like this—“Um, don’t you have some double-patty sandwich special going? You do? Okay. I’ll take two of those—with bacon– a large order of fries, and a large Coke.” I even saw one gentleman go back for another sandwich after he had consumed his first go round. Most of the men were big guys, but not fat guys. Meanwhile I was nibbling on a salad and sipping a Diet Coke. Not because I felt it was a payment for the Thanksgiving calories, but because that is what appealed to me. Let’s review: a gazillion calories consumed by men equals no weight gain and not a thought to shoulda-woulda’s. A salad and Diet Coke for this woman equals the need for two pair of Spanx. What the freak’n heck? How is that fair? Sigh. Maybe that penis is a magic wand after all.