There’s a lot going on in my body right now, what with my estrogen and progesterone packing its bags and leaving, my egg production in rapid decline, and all the symptoms making my head spin like a possessed woman – I’m increasingly enamored with the idea of a complete gender reassignment.

I’ve often noticed the difference between the having the penis and not having the penis in my relationship, and I kinda feel like I’ve been dealt a raw blow. If I had the penis – would I be as annoying with it?

Probably.. but first I want to share way too much with you – about the penis and what I might, and might not do, if I had one.

Would Not:

  1. If I had a penis, I would basically not spend 80% of my time tryin to stick it in Fitty.
  2. If Fitty went to lay down in the daytime, because he was tired from all the work he does to feed me and keep me alive, I would not always appear second’s later in the doorway, naked and lewdly suggesting playtime by nodding my head and saying “Hey…..hey…. heeeey?”
  3. I would definitely not pretend that my “morning wood” was a “rudderless ship” attempting to “moor” by banging into the “dry-dock” repeatedly.
  4. I would never stand with my arms above my head, eyes closed, and pee all over the toilet seat.
  5. If I came into the bathroom and found Fitty naked after a shower, leaning over the basin cleaning his teeth, I would not pin him by the thighs to the edge of the vanity, lick his ear, and dry hump him until toothpaste came out his nose.
  6. I would try not to spend every waking moment adjusting my junk and then shaking people’s hands.


  1. I would employ only the very best surgeons and have them craft me a designer cock. One Fitty would be proud to put in his mouth!
  2. I would enjoy arriving home from work and having a meal cooked for me, and if I felt like cooking, I would enjoy that too… infrequently.
  3. I would listen to the things my penis was telling me constantly, but I would reply knowing who I was talking to. “Yes, yes I know you need me to tweak his nipples and grind him into the bench, but we did that yesterday remember? Do your balls still hurt?”
  4. I would prolly think that the best way to help on the day we’re having people over for lunch, would be to get up and start drinking beer, while standing around the barbecue looking relaxed  – because I realise that my penis would entirely inhibit my ability to help with cleaning and food preparation.
  5. I would enjoy taking frequent dumps without ever having to clean the toilet, and squirt shower products up the wall. (It’s not like my penis and I can do anything about that situation!)
  6. Most of my beverages would be brought to me where I sit, and I guess I’ll just get called for dinner like everyone else – now that I’ve got a penis!

The absence of a penis means so much more suffering. The hormones (my vagina and it’s assorted company) require to transition from “fertile” to “not fucking interested at all” are making me unpleasant and prone to long bouts of whinging. I go up and down like a yo-yo, never quite fully aware of what I’m doing and saying until after, when I quietly think about it… realise I’ve been a bitch.

Sure, a gender reassignment is probably not going to happen – but the look on Fitty’s face, every time I remind him that it is entirely possible that I could pay the money, come home with a sorta functioning dick, and chase him around the house with it wanging around in my hand – it’s just too priceless to ever let go!

*I always get Fitty to look at a post like this before I post it. (I am somewhat sensitive to his feelings after all.) The only comment he made other than laughing was in reply to the designer cock in mouth situation –

“I so would fucking NOT put it in my mouth!”

And so, it appears we have an agreement of sorts!!