A Boy's Revelation That He Is, As Expected, A girl.

I remember...(I love this phrase; it invokes such a feeling of reflection, and reflection is sure to follow it.)

When, during the (comprehensive...thank god (read:http://phillyphollyorie.webs.com/index.htm)) sexual education section of my 10th Grade Health class, all of the boys--rather uncomfortably--had to step up to the board and describe what it means, in spatial terms (what else), it means to be a man.

Likewise, the girls set to work putting vaginas and boobs galore on the white board, amid laughter, giggles, AND REMARKS OF SIMILAR MIRTH. The boys, in contrast, set to work putting peni (quite phallic phellos) glore on the white board, amid laughter, giggles, and a crucial lack of remarks of similar mirth.

Indeed, herein lies the difference between the two groups: girls have fun and talk and boys have fun...often more stupidly and more loudly than the former.

I, eschewing the later behavior, decided I was a girl, under a decidedly ironic context (the difference between men and women is not in any spatial representation, but in how they react to each other during the creation of this spatial representation.

Bie,
Well, girl, look at you!