Testicular Fortitude and the Female

It's a fairly common to see it used in phrases: He's got balls. His wife must have his balls in her pocket. It can also be formed as a question, usually derisively: Do you have the balls for it? Don't you have any balls? I've been thinking about the tendency to equate bravery and guts with having testicles.

When you think about it, this is a strange quirk that we have, singling out the male genitalia as our symbol of determination and drive. This area that tends to resemble a hairy sock with two large marbles inside has taken on an importance of unbelievable magnitude. Not that I'm complaining about testicles; I actually am quite fond of the glorious pair attached to that man o' mine. After all, a miracle really is born in these testicles. However, this miracle can be duplicated by most men, from the lowest mud-crawling male up to the greatest of kings. Also, there is a duplicate miracle going on in the female ovaries, and I have yet to hear anyone say, "Boy, to carry that off, he had a pair of ovaries on him, I tell ya." Strange.

I don't envy men and their balls. It seems that the bullcrap that men have to put up with simply to maintain their manhood is something that we females should be glad we don't have to endure, just as men, deep down in their souls, should thank the powers that be that they don't have to give birth, have periods, or go through menopause. My conclusion? Life is hard on both fronts. There's no need to worry about who has the balls, or how big they are. If those balls can get done the only job that they really do, then God bless 'em, every round, hairy one of 'em.