Why Women Are CrabbyWe 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.
Why Women Are Crabby
by Lady Lee 42 Replies latest social humour
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Lady Lee
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minimus
You're right: men are better.
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keyser soze
Yeah? Well we get jock itch.
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snowbird
I rejected HRT and decided to sweat it out!
Today is one of my worst days!
Sylvia
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daniel-p
Egad... could not read the whole thing... the horror... the horror...
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Terry
A man has confidence if he owns even the most pathetic of penises.
A man is almost a penis, a brain and an opinion. The body is optional to confidence.
A woman IS her body in the eyes of society. She cannot accept herself because her body isn't "perfect".
A man can have a nine-month-pregnant midriff and yet criticize the love handles of the most attractive woman he sees.
Why this disparity?
It is easier to marginalize a "person" when you hold their body to an immoderate and arbitrary standard of perfection while ignoring
their mind.
A woman with a mind is a challenge.
Women with strong minds often become the enemy of themselves and their gender by being critical and non-supportive of gender issues.
The best aspect of womanhood is what has been destroyed most completely: FEMININITY.
By getting women to substitute sex-appeal for natural femininity women are left without the very nature they are born to.
The hollowed-out substitute (the sexy, alluring hot bod) cannot be comfortable without accepting objectification and competition among their own gender.
Men side with men.
Women eat their own.
Is it any wonder the gender has fractured along the lines of crabby, unfulfilled, unequal, shrill, hard-edged non-feminine subgroups who accept the sexy stereotype while lamenting its fecklessness?
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minimus
Like I said, men are better.
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mrsjones5
Oh yeah baby
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White Dove
LOL!
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dinah
Never heard it put that way. Women ROCK!
