SeaDuceme2
06-29-2004, 08:36 AM
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 (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'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 ***** (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 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 HR 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 Ghandi a
tad crabby. Women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. Bite me.
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 (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'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 ***** (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 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 HR 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 Ghandi a
tad crabby. Women are the "weaker sex"? Yeah right. Bite me.