I’m over it. I’m over being a woman.

I’ve always thought it would be better to be a man and I feel the past couple of days have really cemented this thought.

I think it comes down to the maintenance. It would be sweet if I just woke up and looked incredible, maybe like Mila Kunis (just throwing it out there), chucked on some clothes and went on my merry way but unfortunately, that’s not life.

What is life is shaving, ex-foliating, moisturising, make up, hair, nails, waxing, shoes, clothes, accessories – it’s too much. I want to go on strike.

Do you know how long, expensive and time consuming it is to be a woman? I seriously have to wonder how much time we waste doing weird woman things when we could be outside having a beer.

And it’s worse when we have an event.

I’m off back to the motherland in two days and the prep I have ahead of me is just plain daunting.

I’ve had to work backwards from the day of departure to figure out when I need to wash my hair and shave my legs, so that I’ve timed it just right. I’ve had my hair done (there goes five hours of my life I’ll never get back) and been waxed within an inch of my life. I’ve had to sort out what clothes to take, complete with accessories and different types of underwear depending on what pants/skirt/dresses I decide on, and I still have to paint my nails, pack, possibly fake tan the old pins once they’ve been shaved,and decide on whether it’s a heels or boots kinda trip.

Mr Knees on the other hand has just put a load of washing on and will pull out a bag on Thursday afternoon pop in some jeans, four t-shirts and a jacket and away he goes. 

WHAT THE HELL. Now I’m even more mad. And, he’s just had the audacity to come in here and say ‘did you not even hang my washing out for me?’ Ahhh Mr Knees, if I was you, I’d be walking real quick out of my vicinity because if I can reach you I WILL GET YOU.

See, and we’re moody, like super moody. The funniest part is when we know we’re being irrational but there’s not a single thing we can do to control it, we just have to ride the wave and let it be.

So I’m thinking about becoming a man. Not like forever, but just maybe for a week. Imagine a week of no make up, no nails, no hair washing, and all the other glorious things I have failed to mention, oooooh peeing ANYWHERE, brilliant.

Now I just have to convince Mr Knees it’s totally fine if he sleeps with a man for a week.