What makes a woman?


I have been considering this question.  Quite a lot.  You see, I am not honestly sure what the answer is anymore.  I know that I am female in the chromosomal department.  At least, I have not yet developed a Y chromosome and am not likely to do so.  However, I have few other female bits left.

I dispensed with my ovaries, fallopian tubes and uterus in 2000.  Other people marked the millennium with fireworks.  I had a hysterectomy.  I now need to lose my boobs.  My magnificent bosom.  My rack.  My chesticles.  My lady lumps.  As if that were not enough, all trace of oestrogen, that ever so female hormone, is about to be eradicated from my body.  Physiologically speaking, there ain’t a lot left.

Shopping wise, I frequently find myself buying men’s clothes (but even they have short legs, wtf?!) because the UK shopping industry has been slow to cotton onto the fact that women, do indeed come in heights other than 5’6″.  I am sure my vertically challenged friends can attest to similar difficulties.  Although to them I say one thing: ‘Petite Range’.  Most shops do them.  ‘Gargantuan Range’, not so much.

All this tends to chip away at a girl’s (or should that be ‘one’s’?) sense of femininity.  As being female goes, I have not excelled.


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