Why us women are crabby!
This is why we are crabby and still will be crabby as we grow older. I think no guy should give us girls shit because of this.
Why Women Are Crabby
We started to "bud" into our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to
find out 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 (premarital or not) was having sex
the first time which was about as much fun as having a ramrod
push your uterus through your nostrils, 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 had swallowed a watermelon whole 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 OB and hubby square in the face for making us cram a
wiggling, mushroom-headed 10 lb 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 and is now all but null and void. 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, 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.
Women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. Bite me.
The Seven Dwarfs of Menopause
Itchy, Bitchy, Sweaty, Sleepy, Bloated, Forgetful and Psycho
Why Women Are Crabby
We started to "bud" into our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to
find out 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 (premarital or not) was having sex
the first time which was about as much fun as having a ramrod
push your uterus through your nostrils, 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 had swallowed a watermelon whole 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 OB and hubby square in the face for making us cram a
wiggling, mushroom-headed 10 lb 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 and is now all but null and void. 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, 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.
Women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. Bite me.
The Seven Dwarfs of Menopause
Itchy, Bitchy, Sweaty, Sleepy, Bloated, Forgetful and Psycho