Are Women the Weaker sex?

Why Women Are Crabby



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 calluses

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

pee'd 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!

Thanks Julie for sending that to me! Don't know where she got it! :)

NEXT WEEK: The New Real World--well kinda, just structured differently! I think you guys will like it! Be sure to come back! :)