What? Are you groaning at the title of the blog? I know.. I KNOW! Me too. It’s super cliche and stereotypical and it screams of “playing the woman card”– but hear me out, I have back up to support making such an old fashioned statement.
Other than extra appendages, I don’t think men and women are all THAT different. Sure, we like to think we are opposites of one another, but we have way too much in common for that to be true (I mean, duh, we both walk upright and have opposable thumbs.)
There may be things we NEVER tell someone of the other sex that isn’t a medical professional in charge of our health certain things about ourselves in fear of scaring them away forever (“why are there scented tampons?” for one. And dudes, we don’t want to know if your balls are flaking or why. Ever.)
Ladies are supposedly supposed to be “girly” and Dudes are supposed to be “manly”- but strip that away and we’re basically the same. We might like the same gory disgusting movies, or cars, or sports. Or maybe there’s a similar bond over a hatred of socks or a certain kind of cheese. We might both be picky eaters, or not picky at all. We both think boobs are pretty awesome. Shit, maybe someone doesn’t want to admit it- but perhaps the other gender loves musicals and bon-bons and soap operas. Maybe there are more chicks like me who really love to belch- and lemme tell ya, I can’t count the number of times I’m told that I “belch like a man”–
why’s it gotta be just men that can belch like a boss?
I watched The Notebook and groaned with boredom (refrain from throwing things at me now.) I think a lot of today’s “fashion” is heinous and I don’t at all understand it. I f’ing LOVE Science-Fiction. The only reason I had barbie dolls was to chop their heads off. If Thomas says a female celebrity is hot? I agree. Unless she’s nasty. I can’t wrap my mind around the appeal of Edward.
See dudes? Have I done a decent job at arguing my case of similarity? We’re not that much different after all, are we?
WAIT! Let me answer that for you…. YES.
Yes we are.
Why? I’ll tell you why- and it doesn’t have anything to do with the whole carrying a baby thing or the bloody vagina thing or the monthly achy uterine shedding thing. Or boobs.
|Snort. “pregnancy” hormones.
I call those VAGINA hormones.
It’s hormones, damnit. Those pesky ass hormones. THEY are the reason (outside of, y’know.. the parts) our genders never seem to see eye to eye. And I hate them.
Remember that whole groaning at The Notebook thing I mentioned? Yeah, that was BEFORE kids. I never cried watching anything before kids. Didn’t even get misty. I was a ROCK! A manly penis-less rock! A MAN’S WOMAN! Or.. A woman’s man? Whatever. I was a hard core kick-ass biatch. You silly little girls and your silly little tears!
It started early, during my first pregnancy- I found myself getting weepy over a cartoon. Not some super sappy family holiday cartoon, or anything with any sentimental value- a stupid “Adult Swim” cartoon. CRYING. I had hoped it was a fluke, a one time thing. Maybe I was having an allergic reaction to dust, ’cause I sure hadn’t dusted in a while since my giant ass wasn’t even supposed to get out of bed.
Much to my chagrin, the “womanly” emotional moments only got worse as I popped out #1 and then #2. Now I get weepy at EVERYTHING.
Literally- everything. Watching the fireworks at Disney? Total fucking baby moment. FIREWORKS! good lord. P&G Diaper commercial? Booger-faucety crying spree. Seeing a semi-horrible actor “tear up” (yeah I’m not convinced they weren’t sprayed in the face with a squirt bottle)? My eyes instantly start to burn and water. And get the fuck outta here with super-sappy over the top cheesy “chick-flicks”- I can’t handle it!
To be honest with you, I am totally horrified by this new hormonal all too stereotypical woman thing going on here- especially when it happens around Thomas. It’s not that dudes don’t cry… Just most of them won’t ever do it around anyone else. I don’t know how they manage it- but it must be a lack of vagina-y hormones raging through their systems left behind by a dropped placenta or something. I really don’t know- but I know he is NEVER crying and I am ALWAYS crying and I never want him to catch me crying because he looks at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind. And maybe I have!
When I have to mentally prepare myself to be sobbing through a certain TV show that shall remain nameless (cough, Parenthood, cough) every single week and bark “I’M A WOMAN!” at my husband for quizzically looking over at me because I’m rapidly fanning my face to try to stop the tears- that’s how I know men and women are totally different and there is no hope for complete and total understanding.
Also because I don’t have testicles and I never EVER want to know what it’s like to have them flake.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.
Parenthood is when you start counting the minutes to bed time before 11am.