We Started to “bud” in our blouses at the age of 9 or 10, only to discover that anything that came into any sort of contact with those tender, blooming buds, would send us into tears of pain. And, so, was the invention of the rediculously uncomfortable trianing bra that the boys would snap so many times that we had stinging red marks on our backs that lasted for days…and it gets better from here.
Next, in our early to mid-teens, (or sooner), we got our periods. Along with those budding breasts, we bloated, we cramped, we got the raging hormones cranking inside of us, had to wear little matresses in between our legs, or insert tubular cotton packed rods in places we didn’t even know existed…Oh, what fun!
Our next rite of passage, was having sex for the first time (premarital or not), which was just 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 cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what the hell all of the fuss was about….There’s more where this came from, so keep reading!
Now comes the joy of motherhood, where we learned to live on dry crackers and water for a few moths so that we didn’t spend the entire day and night saying hello to Mr. Toiletbowl. So, being the amazing creatures that we women are, we learned to deal with the growing little miracles inside of us constanlty kicking our insides day and night, making us wonder if we were preparing to deliver Rosemary’s Baby…Oh, Joy!
Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a huge watermellon whole, and we pee’d our pants with every single tiny little sneeze that escaped us. When the big moment arrived, and the dam had busted, it came at the most inconveniant time ever-right in the middle of the shopping mall, and we had to waddle, with our huge, swollen, cartoon feet, moaning and groaning in agony, all the way to the Emergency Room…The fun is just beginning!
There was huffing, and puffing, asking for drugs or just plain begging to die, so that this whole experience would be done and over with, while the OB says, “Please stop screaming Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push, just once more”(yeah more like 10 more). All the while trying to severely hold back a very strong urge to punch the OB, and my husband, for making me cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed, 10lb bowling ball through a keyhole. Thank God that’s over with…Or, maybe not?
After that huge ordeal, it was time to raise those little angel miracles, only to find out that when the “cuteness” wears off, the beautiful little angels transformed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines…FUN, FUN, FUN!
Now onto their “Teen Years”. Enough said!
When the kids were just about all grown up, us women hit our sexual prime-while the husband had his somewhere around his 18th birthday…Go Figure!
Now, Gentleman(and ladies), we plunge into the Grand Finale: “Menopause”, The Grandmother of all womanhood. Now, while I haven’t had the personal experience for myself yet, I do have a mother, and I did live with her, so in turn, I lived with “The Menopause” just as much as she did. Oh, boy, let me tell you, it was not a very pleasant experience for either of us. My mother, having to live with the maddening sweats in the middle of the summertime, and having to wash her sheets and pillowcases on a daily basis, and me, having to deal with the fact that my mother would bite my head off over any litte thing, even if I looked at her the wrong way.
Now, you ask WHY women seem to be a hell of alot more spiteful then men, when the men get off so much easier, INCLUDING, the icing on life’s cake: Being able to pee in the woods without soaking their jeans, legs, or socks…Yay for them!
So, while I love being a woman, and would not trade it for anything in this entire world, womanhood would make The Great Ghandi a tad bit crabby himself…and men say that woman are the weaker sex? Yeah Right, Give me a break!