We started to 'bud' in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find that anything that came in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurt so bad it brought us to tears. So came the ridiculously uncomfortable training bra contraption that the boys in school would snap until we had callouses on our backs.
Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with those budding boobs, we bloated, we cramped, we got the hormone crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.
Our next little rite of passage was having sex for the first time which was 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 us to wonder what all the fuss was about.
Then it was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we didn't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learned to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we were preparing to have Rosemary's Baby.
Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a whole watermelon and we peed our pants every time we sneezed. When the big moment arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with our big cartoon feet, moaning in pain, all the way to the ER.
Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. Just one more good push." More like 10, warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the %$#*@*#!* hubby and doctor square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10 pound bowling ball through a keyhole.
After that, it was time to raise those angels, only to find that when all that 'cute' wears off, the beautiful little darlings morphed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines.
Then come their 'Teen Years.' Need I say more?
When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40's - while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday..
So we progress into the grand finale: 'The Menopause,' the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take 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...
So, while I love being a woman, 'Womanhood' would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. You think women are the 'weaker sex?' Yeah right. Bite me.
15 comments:
Heck yeah! I'm in teen and toddler years right now. I've gotta say my teen girl is generally easier to be around than my 3 year old.
It's so true. We just don't get understood very easily, do we? Only another woman can really empathize with us.
Ok, I'm totally lmao over here. You are right on!!!
Oh Dear Lord! How right you are!!! This totally cracked meup!
Hee hee.. you hit the nail on the head with this post...
Di
The Blue Ridge Gal
This kinda makes me sad.
I have a beaver, er, rabbitt that REAALY needs your advice :)
Hilarious!! Oh, so true...
I notice that all the comments so far are from fellow WOMEN! Obviously, no MEN have the courtesy or generosity to recognize your amazing insights and admit how easy they have it compared to us!
I think I'm about ready to crawl into bed with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolate after reading that. *sigh*
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LMAO well said!
Being a girl is a tough gig. Men have it EASY!
AGREED!! XOXO :)
Aw, I just peed my pants when I sneezed yesterday. Such great memories... (you can sense the sarcasm, right??)
Ohhh, I SO know what you're saying. Give the me happiest scenario, and I can find the crappy part of it. That would be me these past few months...
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