I had asked If twas ok here... Enjoy guys
Some of your girls may of got this today
Well, let me tell you why. 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
calluses on our backs.
Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner).
Along with those budding boobs, we now bloat, cramp, get the hormonal mood
swings, have a choice to wear little mattresses between our legs or shove
tubular, packed cotton rods deep into 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 ... and that's 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's off to Motherhood, where we learn to live on nothing but dry
crackers and water for months on end so we don't spend entire days
leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we
ARE, make no mistake about it), 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 now look like
we swallowed a watermelon whole and we pee 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 feet, moaning in pain all the way to the hospital.
Then it's huff and puff and beg to die while the doctor says, "Please stop
screaming, Mrs. In-Labor. Calm down and push. Just one more good
push," (he LIES; it's at LEAST 10 more!) warranting a strong, well-deserved
impulse to punch the b*stard (and husband) square in the nose for making us
cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed ten pound bowling ball through a keyhole.
After that, it's time to raise those 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.
The teen years; need I say more?
The kids are almost grown now and we women hit our voracious sexual
prime in our mid-30's to early 40's, while hubby had his somewhere around his
18th birthday (which just *happens* to be the reason all that early hot
man sex got you knocked up in the first place).
Now we hit the grand finale: "Menopause," the Grandmother of all
womanhood. It's either take the HRT and chance cancer in those now seasoned
"buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or sweat like a hog in January,
wash your sheets and pillowcases daily, and bite the head off anything that
moves within your line of sight.
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?
Don't get me wrong -- I love being a woman, but "Womanhood" would
make the Great Gandhi spiteful! And they say women are the "weaker sex."
HA!
Yaps
