The Problem With Being a Woman

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Can we talk about how hard it is to be a woman? This could easily be a 23 post rant…

Given the chance, I would come back as a man.

If you’re a man, no one cares if you have a moustache or beard. Meanwhile I’ve been over here constantly plucking my chin hairs ever since I was gifted the joy of menopause. I practically look like a yeti.

There’s a movement to embrace the dad-bod but I don’t see anyone celebrating the chunk and rolls that motherhood brings for some of us. (Side-eye to the women who manage to be fit and trim, just kidding.)

When men go grey it’s distinguished and they’re called silver foxes. I don’t hear anyone calling me a silver cougar as my hair turns grey. Nope, thanks to society I feel the need to dye my hair so that I look younger than my 43 years.

The older that we all get, the harder things become, that’s no lie. But men seem to age easier than women, am I right? Why don’t we take a look at perimenopause and menopause…

Men hit a certain age and it’s called a mid-life crisis. They go out and buy a little sports car and maybe start seeing an inappropriately young girlfriend. Society accepts it, no big deal. But when I go into a full-on rage because I’m having a hot flash the likes of the 9th ring of hell, it’s inappropriate and scary.

Perimenopause and menopause have nothing to do with men, so I don’t know why ‘men’ is in the name. They should both be called SheHell. SheHell #1 and SheHell#2. Because that is literally your life for however long it takes your body to shut down all the reproductive shenanighans.

Your body is basically rebelling on you. Your hormones are full on bungee jumping 24-7 and you become a raging moody lunatic (speaking from personal experience here). You can go from sunshine and rainbows to crying at the drop of a hat. And crying over complete nonsense; a commercial, flowers dying, the laundry still being wet after being in the dryer.

And then there is the weight gain. Not the cute pudgy dad-bod belly, a full spare tire around your waist. Full chub. This isn’t the case for everyone but it was the case for me. I wasn’t super slim prior to perimenopause/menopause but come on, give a girl a break. Swimsuit shopping sends me into a downward spiral, never mind trying to look for plus size clothes that don’t make me look like a beached whale wearing a mumu. I see the way the sales ladies look at me when I come into a clothing store, ‘what the hell does she think she’s going to find in here that fits her?’ Bitches lol.

Let’s not forget the hot flashes. While men seem to run at a pretty even temperature no matter their age, a hot flash for a woman is like being on the face of the sun! It’s not a heat that you can lessen by removing clothing. It is hell fire emanating from the core of your body. Your sweat glands go into overdrive and your irritability rises to record levels. You are now a rage monster. Lord have mercy on the poor soul that comes at you with anything.

Apparently insomnia is another symptom of SheHell. Estrogen levels deplete and the brain excretes fight-or-flight response chemicals that keep you on high alert through the night. Meanwhile, your husband is snoring away like a freight train getting the sleep of his life. Even worse, with the insomnia you become an exhausted mess.

And let’s not forget vaginal dryness. You may as well have the Sahara dessert between your legs. I don’t see men dealing with dry dick. Couple the dryness with decreased sex drive and you may as well have a death certificate written for your vagina.

With all of that, we should be celebrating the fact that women don’t go on massive killing sprees during this time in their life. Whole houses spontaneously combusting due to pent up rage finally letting loose. Maybe ‘Karen’ is just going through perimenopause, maybe we should cut her some slack.

I’m not trying to hate on the men, just poking a little fun at the disparity between the two sexes. I’m sure men have it bad somehow to and it’s just things that they don’t talk about. Maybe they have anal or nipple leakage at 50. Who knows?

What does this have to do with my Bipolar, you ask? Well, nothing really. I’m feeling good and wanted to entertain you. There are plenty more stories that I can come up with that prove women have it harder than men.

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