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| Topic: Why Women Are So Cranky | |
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You start to "bud" in your blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find anything that comes in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurts so bad it brings you to tears. Enter the almighty, uncomfortable training bra contraption the boys in school will snap until you have calluses on your backs. Next, you get your periods in your early to mid-teens (or sooner).
Along with those budding boobs, you now bloat, you cramp, you get the hormone crankies, have to wear little mattresses between your legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places you didn't even know you had. Your next little rite of passage (premarital or not) is having sex for the first time which is about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up with his little cart before his horse), leaving you to wonder what all the fuss was about. Then it's off to Motherhood where you learn to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so you don't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that you are (and you are), you learn to live with the growing little angels inside you steadily kicking your innards night and day making uyou wonder if you're having Rosemary's Baby. Your once flat bellies now look like you swallowed a watermelon whole and you pee our pants every time you sneeze. When the big moment arrives, the dam in your blessed Nether Regions will invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and you'll waddle with your big cartoon feet moaning in pain all the way to the ER. Then it's huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hear-me-roar. Calm down and push. Just one more (or 10 ) good push," warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the bastard (and hubby) square in the nose for making you cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10lb. bowling ball through a keyhole. After that, it's time to raise those angels only to find that when all that "cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morph into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines. The teen years. Need I say more? The kids are almost grown now and you women hit your voracious sexual prime in your mid-30's to early 40's while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday (which just happens to be the reason all that early hot man sex got you pregnant in the first place). Now you hit the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take the HRT and chance cancer in those now seasoned "buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves. Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men when men get off so easy INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: Being able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks... Now you probably love being a woman but "Womanhood" would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. Women are the "weaker sex."? Yeah right. Bite me  
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The last line makes the point. Every man that wants a baby should have a kidney stone so they get a little bit of the idea.
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 I've still got so much of that left to go!  
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little mattresses between your legs
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  those simple pleasures of life.would not have miss it the pleasures of being a woman
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