- 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, we cramp, we get
the hormone crankies, 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 is having sex for the
first time which is 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'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 John.
- 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 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 feet moaning in pain all the way to the ER.
Then it's huff and puff and beg to die while the 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 jerk (and hubby) square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling,
mushroom-headed 10lb 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.
- Now we hit the grand finale: "The 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 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...
- Now I love being a woman but "Womanhood" would
make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. Women are the "weaker sex"?
Yeah, right. Bite me.