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 bloated, we cramped, we got the
hormone crankiness, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert
tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.
Then this weird hair that grew in places we didnt want a long with smells.
Then we had to learn to shave with a razor, that was dull the most of the time. Cutting out legs and arm pits to hell.
Put little band aids all over looking like some freak show!

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 O.B. ? 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 offso 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.

GOOD FRIENDS ARE THE RARE JEWELS OF LIFE...
DIFFICULT TO FIND AND IMPOSSIBLE TO REPLACE!

HAVE A GREAT DAY TODAY
AND A BETTER TOMORROW!