big wheels

Why Women Are Crabby

We 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're bloated, we're 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 attendant 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 9 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.
>
>
>
>
Send this to seven bright women you know and make their day!!! Or at
least make them laugh a little......

Sam Greenfield

I love being a woman experienced some of the above ohhhhh and i so cant wait for the later years

gazz

i don,t know what all the fuss is about?

Sam Greenfield

Hahaha - thats what most blokes say - walk a day in our shoes

DebsyW

Matt does already..... on Sundays apparently

gazz

Well you gotta look your best for church!