So I have a friend named Chelsea Chamberlain. She’s pretty awesome, and we are always have fun chats on Facebook about the most random topics. Today’s topic: the crappiness of Birth Control and being a girl. We had so much to say on that little chat that we’d thought to share it with the cyber world. So here’s a nice summation of our discussion.
Oh, and be warned. This post may very well contain too much information:
Birth control is the devil. That’s pretty self explanatory, but because my vocal filter hasn’t been changed in a while I will expand on this subject:
Who in their right mind thought that it was okay to pump women full of artificial hormones to prevent unwanted pregnancy!? Don’t we have enough to go through as is? I mean, maybe I’m crazy (thanks to the BC), but I kinda think the PMS, cramping, bloating, and ‘special gift’ once a month is bad enough! But noooo, let’s add timed medication to the mix, eh? Sounds, fun!
“Hey, Priscilla, how would you like to wake up at the exact time every morning to take a pill that will make you dizzy, nauseas, fatigued, lightheaded, and possibly gain up to 10lbs?”
“Oh, geeze, men of the world, can I, please? I sure love not feeling like myself!”
Psh, ridiculous. So here I am, suffering all sorts of crappy side effects from the pill, and I can’t go off it cause, SHOCK, there is no way that Bob and I could support a child right now. NO WAY. Sure, I can change to a different type, but I was told to give it 3 months to see if your body regulates to the new amount of hormones. And even after I was to switch it’ll throw my body through another hormonal rollercoaster!
So to all you women out there working your butt off to prevent unwanted pregnancy, I give you a million and one gold kudos. You take so much crap from that little daily pill, and you keep a smile on your face (most of the time, at least).
And to all the men out there supporting a woman on birth control I have a few things to say to you:
You better darn well treat your lady like the ultimate queen-goddess divine that she is. Not only is she doing all the work to make sure you guys don’t have children before the time is right, but she will one day friggin’ carry a child in her body for 9 months and then push it out of a way-too-tiny opening after a traumatic 12 hours of intense labor pains. Worship the ground she walks on, men! If she wants authentic Canadian bacon, you grab your passport and haul your heiney into the car to get her that glorified ham! Tell her she looks beautiful every chance you get. Oh, and, you better do the dishes and take out the trash WITHOUT being asked. If she gets to deal with this hormone crap, you better have the decency to help with the housework, you pig. Kiss her on the forehead. It is seriously one of the sweetest things ever. Forehead kisses. Golden. Oh, and, give her the remote. Just do it.
And now to turn the ranting over to Miss Chelsea:
And men, don’t you dare tell us we can’t blame everything on that blasted pill. Because we can. And we will. I’m irritated, because of the pill. Because I’m irritated, I might want to punch you in the throat, because of the pill. I am constantly complaining about head and boob aches, because of the pill. I need EXTRA loving, because of the pill. Just as you men blame your perverted and sickening ways on the simple fact that you are dude – we blame our overly emotional and psychotic ways on said pill.
And that’s not all… Oh no. You think you men are off the hook THAT easy? Tuck that tail between your legs and THINK AGAIN. Not only do we have to carry your children for 9 months, bleed for 7 days of the month – every month, and deal with lovely side effects of maintaining said menstruation… There are many more reasons why you should be kissing the ground we walk on.
Hair. We actually have it. And we spend an infinite amount of time making sure it looks okay. Blow drying, curling, straightening, coloring, styling. You might respond, “but you don’t have to do all that”… And you are correct. So let’s consider for one small moment if we were to spend as much time on our hair as you do on yours… Hmm. You’d probably get something similar to this…
Don’t even get me started on plucking and shaving. It is socially unacceptable for a girl to have a mustache. Men have freedom of choice in this matter. Have you men ever TRIED tweezing your mustache?! Let alone waxing it?! Keeping our eyebrows in perfect shape is beyond obnoxious. Have you seen how fast those hairs grow?
If you can honestly tell me that you want to jump this girl’s bones right now… You are hereby excused from the eyebrow rant.
And SHAVING? Man almighty. The only things you’ve got to worry about are your face and neck. We… shave our armpits, our legs, and our bikini areas. Why?
Enough said. So when we take longer in the bathroom… You sure as heck better keep those perfectly kissable lips SEALED as to what the hold up is. If you’d like to run your hand across prickly stubble, then go ahead, rush us.
Peeing. The world is your friggin urinal. Full bladder on a camping trip? NO PROBLEM! Just whip out Kroll the Warrior King and relieve your waters to your heart’s content. You do not need to worry about peeing all over your pants that are at your ankles, or having a stream of urine run down your thigh. Nor do you have to worry about sitting on a toilet seat that has been splashed with another male’s urine. Nor do you have to worry about going to sit on the toilet and falling in because another man didn’t think it convenient to put the toilet seat down. And lastly, you do not EVER have to worry about standing in a line to pee for over 10 minutes…. EVER.
Speaking of bodily functions… Farting and burping? Why does it seem to be 50 times more repulsive when a girl does these things? Who started that trend? Give me a break. I find it incredibly ridiculous that girls feel that they need to hold in their farts and suffer the inherent pains of doing so because it’s not “lady-like”. PUH-lease. If you’re not in a position to poop, then by all means, TOOT! If a guy does this, it’s half expected, and “kosher” – if you will.
Boobs. You do not have them. Though you lust after them for heaven only knows what reasons. They are blobs of fat, and you do not realize exactly how annoying said blobs are, until you have a pair of your own.
You do not have to worry about a car repairman, or any sort of repairman trying to charge you more than something’s worth.
If you’re a man, wrinkles add character. If you’re a woman, cursed be your name if you have a wrinkle.
You can sit with your knees in separate counties no matter what you’re wearing.
Have we made our point clear? So I highly suggest that you go to the store and buy your wonderful woman her favorite flowers right now. She deserves them. Then kiss her and tell her how much she means to you. Go!
Oh, and, sorry about the intense cynicism of this post. Chelsea and I blame it on the birth control. Deal with it.