Fwd: FW: Womanhood

February 20, 2004

Why Women are Crabby:

We start to "bud" in our 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 us to tears. Enter the almighty,

uncomfortable training bra contraption the boys in school will snap until we have whelts on our backs.

Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). And along with those budding boobs, we now bloat, cramp, we get the hormone crankies, we have 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) 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, we MIGHT have enjoyed it). But for the most part it leaves us wondering what all the fuss was about while cleaning up the mess.

Then it's off to Motherhood where we learn to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we don't spend the entire day leaning over Brother . Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learn to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we're having Rosemary's Baby.

Our once flat bellies (which will NEVER look that way again without surgery) now look like we swallowed a watermelon whole and we pee our pants every time we sneeze. When the big moment arrives, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions will invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we'll waddle with our big cartoon asses and feet moaning in pain all the way to the ER.

Then it's huff and puff and beg to die while the MALE OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. Just one more (or 10 ) good push," warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the *$%@#!* (and hubby) square in the FACE for making us cram a wiggling, screaming, pinched faced, mushroom-headed 10 lb bowling ball through and opening the size of a keyhole.

After that, it's time to raise those little 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.

Then the dears find their voices, get a personality and simply defy all that you've come to know as basic decent human behavior. They pick their noses, stick stuff up their ears and put EVERYTHING into their mouths. They then progress to the NEXT stage of development. (if they live that long)

The teen years. Need I say more?

The kids are almost grown now and we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40's while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday and is always "tired"......(from chasing his secretary around the desk no doubt)

Now we hit the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take the HR. 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...and never having to sleep on the WET SPOT!

Now I love being a woman but "Womanhood" would make the Great Ghandi a tad crabby. They say women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. They can all Bite Me!

Send this to seven bright women you know and make their day!!! Or at least make them laugh a little...

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This is soooooooo true!!!!

Why Women are Crabby: We start to "bud" in our 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 us to tears. Enter the almighty,uncomfortable training bra contraption the boys in school will snap until we have whelts on our backs. Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). And along with those budding boobs, we now bloat, cramp, we get the hormone crankies, we have 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) 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, we MIGHT have enjoyed it). But for the most part it leaves us wondering what all the fuss was about while cleaning up the mess. Then it's off to Motherhood where we learn to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we don't spend the entire day leaning over Brother . Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learn to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we're having Rosemary's Baby. Our once flat bellies (which will NEVER look that way again without surgery) now look like we swallowed a watermelon whole and we pee our pants every time we sneeze. When the big moment arrives, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions will invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we'll waddle with our big cartoon asses and feet moaning in pain all the way to the ER. Then it's huff and puff and beg to die while the MALE OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. Just one more (or 10 ) good push," warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the *$%@#!* (and hubby) square in the FACE for making us cram a wiggling, screaming, pinched faced, mushroom-headed 10 lb bowling ball through and opening the size of a keyhole. After that, it's time to raise those little 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.

Then the dears find their voices, get a personality and simply defy all that you've come to know as basic decent human behavior. They pick their noses, stick stuff up their ears and put EVERYTHING into their mouths. They then progress to the NEXT stage of development. (if they live that long) The teen years. Need I say more? The kids are almost grown now and we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40's while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday and is always "tired"......(from chasing his secretary around the desk no doubt) Now we hit the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take the HR. 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...and never having to sleep on the WET SPOT! Now I love being a woman but "Womanhood" would make the Great Ghandi a tad crabby. They say women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. They can all Bite Me!