QUOTE (ladirushfan80 @ Apr 14 2005, 05:53 AM) here ya go gentleman.... a little help....
This explains it all!!!
Why Women Are Crabby
We started to "bud" into our blouses at 9 or 10 years
old only to find
out 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 (premarital or not)
was having sex for
the first time which was 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 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 had swallowed a
watermelon whole 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 OB and hubby square in the face for making us cram a
wiggling, mushroom-headed 10 lb 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 and is now all but null and void.
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, 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.
Women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. Bite me.
Send this to bright women you know and make their
day!!! Or at least make them laugh a little... but not too hard or
they may pee their panties.
The Seven Dwarfs of Menopause.
Itchy, Bitchy, Sweaty, Sleepy, Bloated,
Forgetful and Psycho.
In simple terms?
I agree.
A little education never hurt