Sometimes I have to ask myself why I decided to incarnate as a woman in this lifetime. I think perhaps my soul may have played a trick on me before shipping me here. My soul, (which for the purposes of this piece we shall call Mabel) was snickering as she kicked my ass through the time warp knowing full well the torture I was to be gifted with.
For years I’ve listened as women complained about one hardship or another of being a woman, and how easy men seem to have it. I didn’t think anything of it until I sprouted breasts overnight and earned the nickname “Paper Tits.” Oh Sir Darrin Freeman thought he was some clever coming up with such a spunky name for my pre-pubescent mounds! Really, it made me not feel so bad for stepping on his face as he hid under the teachers desk! This was to be a first of many embarrassments caused by my female bodily betrayal.
Next on the list from dear ol’ Mabel were the horrendous cramps and vomiting that led to a bloody, drooling vagina. All I wanted to do at age nine was curl up in a ball and sleep… however life demanded I go to school, the land of the never ending teasing, complete with a winged mouse mattress between my legs. I am not sure what the true purpose is behind the need to have a period along with all its symptoms, other than
God is a male with an evil twisted sense of humor that no one else gets.
Periods lead to temper tantrums, acne, and being grounded until you’re old enough to get the boot out into the “real world.” Hormones rage and soon you find yourself wanting to dry-hump everything within reach. And this is where you really find out what a cruel joke it is to be sent to earth as a female! Boys are given wet dreams as their coming of age gift. They get to have hot sexy dreams, perhaps grinding their lil ol boners into their mattress, and wake with an ooey gooey mess in their sheets. We get the periods, with all the madness they entail for the next 30 years, while these bastards experience a little goo in their shorts, and the toe curling orgasm as well! Great planning Mabel! Did I mention I think Mabel is a man?
Periods also lead to wardrobe malfunctions of all sorts. From making the mistake of wearing a pad with a skirt, and losing it on the stairs only to have a boy corner you and offer it back with sheer secrecy and sweetness, (not my story, but one I have heard over the years) to being the pitcher in a kickball game with half of the entire gym class behind me seeing the big redspot in my jeans that I was otherwise oblivious to. Or the lovely white jean catastrophy! The only time you ever see a male have to plan his wardrobe according to some kind of seepage is when his very smart girlfriend slips exlax into his burrito as a form of revenge for all of Mabel’s abuse!
So as the years go by, and the periods come and go, or not at all in cases such as mine, we find out about all the other little quirks of what being a woman means. First they get the goo in the shorts, then they get the scoreboard of how many girls they bang, while those girls end up being called a tramp. Sometimes, they are even called a tramp when they are not putting out at all! The joys of a double standard at work here. And as if that isn’t bad enough, women learn that life is all about the penis worship. Male worship of it, that is. Women get to go without orgasms, until the guy leaves, anyway. We learn very well how to take care of ourselves, because otherwise we don’t get a chance to since it’s all over too quickly! We become fantastic actresses!
I won’t even go into the idiocy of childbirth where women trick themselves into thinking that their insides exploding is a beautiful experience. Just once I’d like to see a man try to give birth and have his member explode like Elmer Fudd’s Acme rifle!! Oh the pleasure this would give!
Then, just when you’ve gotten used to rolling with the punches… here comes good ol menopause!! There’s a reason the joke points out that awful experience has “men” in its title! We feel like we have a rocket ship inside us preparing to blast off from our ass out the top of our heads. Yet, it never manages to break out of our hard heads! Just zips around inside there driving us madder. We can go from committing large scale terrorist acts to being blubbering babies in two seconds. Top that one boys!!
Men are said to get better with age, and women are traded in for newer models. I don’t know about you, but even now that I am 35, I still don’t want to see a pair of old, wrinkly balls! It’s no wonder they yelp when they sit, their balls are fighting to get away from their ass too!! They get sports cars when they hit middle age, we get botox and labia lifts! Yep, good going Mabel!
The only satisfaction I get, is watching mens ears as they become satellite dishes off the side of their heads. I am able to rest assured that they can tune into Mabel with those things, and then fly their asses back to wherever they came from!
I’m not a man hater. I am just “post-MEN-strual!”
Mabel, when I get back there, I am so kicking your ass!
