Humor It's time to laugh!

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 (premarital or not) 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.
In-Labor.
Calm down and push. Just one more (10 more) good push," warranting a
strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the b*****d (and horny dude) 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 mid-30's to early 40's while the horny dude had his somewhere
around his 18th birthday (which just happens to be the reason all that early hot man sex got you pregnant in the first place).

Now we hit the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all
womanhood. It's either take the 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?

I love being a woman (call me crazy) but "Womanhood" would make the Great

Gandhi more spiteful!!!

And they say women are the "weaker sex." HA!

This one is unbelievable!!! I couldn't have explained it better
myself!!!!!

This one is worth sending out to ALL the women in your life!!!!!

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