Dear Being A Woman,

Sometimes, you really suck. Like when I have my period, and I feel horrendously fat, and I can't stop stuffing my face with chocolate. And then, I do the cliche thing of TALKING about how fat I am and how much I like chocolate. And then I talk about how boys suck because they never call when they say they will, and they don't check their messages every 5 minutes like I do, and they can't freaking express themselves EVER or just give us an INKLING of how they're feeling or what they're thinking until we have to beg it out of them, and then they think we're crazy, or engaging in "psycho girl behavior" when in reality, we're acting this way because they DRIVE US TO IT.

And what about when I am on a road trip or camping or drunkenly stumbling down the street and I suddenly need to take a whiz? There's no simply pulling out my dong and pointing it somewhere. Nay its an elaborate process of sliding my pants down as far as they will go and balancing my ass as far back as I can so that I don't accidentally pee all over my feet/shoes/jeans. And even then, its not like I can aim it or anything, so inevitably there's a little splashing and uneven streaming. Oh and if there's a previously undetected incline, then the pee starts to flow towards my shoes and I have to somehow scurry away with my jeans around my ankles and my ass in the air so that, god forbid, I don't touch my own urine with the dirty soles of my shoes. And what if there's no spare tissue in my purse? Let's not even get into that...

Oh and don't give me that bullcrap about the miracle of childbirth, 'cause I'm not buying it. I've seen the tapes in health class, and it was terrifying and disgusting and I'm never allowing that to happen to my body, so what else have ya got?

Pass the ho hos girlfriend,
Irma

No comments: