Thursday, March 10, 2011

It sucks to be a woman

It sucks to be a woman
I think you will agree
that a lot of what we go through 
seems un-necessary.
It starts quite early on
with the development of tits
and the school shirt you started with
no longer really fits.
Your Dad gets quite embarrassed
When you ask "what's going on?"
He gets all red faced and mumbles
stuff like "Go and ask your Mum"

 Your Mums not any better
She just shoves you in the car
after hugging you triumphantly
Shrieking "Lets go and buy a bra!"
We march with purpose through Tyrell and Green
through an unknown world of silk and lace
where woman in suits carry tape measures
and have too much make up on their face.
Then we get to periods
almost as awkward to say as go through
As like countless times before
you go and sit innocently on the loo
and the bog roll comes away bloody 
and you think you're going to die
and wonder do I call for help
or just sit here and cry?

You opt for the middle ground
stuffing paper down your keks
as you roll into a little ball
sobbing, trying to catch your breath.
Your Dad comes banging on the door
wondering what the hell you've done.
You tell him you're bleeding profusely
He says "I'll go and get your Mum"
Your Mum mops away your tears
And tells you you'll be fine
and that you're going to bleed like this
every month til the end of time
or at least until the menopause
when everything dries up
which is information overload
and you run to the sink to upchuck.
She then brings out a box
of the most enormous pads,
tells you to put it in your knickers
and then pull up your pants.
 It's like having a giant mattress
stuffed between your legs.
You're walking like John Wayne
wondering when it's going to end.

Then we get to dating
when we finally notice boys
but have to compete for their affections
with their silly little toys.
And then we finally pick one
that we actually like,
we spend our time obsessing,
asking questions through the night.

"Will he call or won't he?"
"Why did he say he would?"
"Why didn't he take my number,
when it's obvious he should?"
And when he finally calls
You're as happy as can be
You stay together through the years
'til he gets on bended knee
and asks for your hand in marriage,
for you to be his wife
and then you have to plan
the biggest day of your life!

You have to sort the venue,
the catering and the dress.
You have to sort the quarrels
and social rifts between the guests.
You have to stop the mothers'
muscling in on your big day
and keep the peace with everyone
who wants to have their say.

And then the day arrives
you're so nervous you could be sick
and pray that after all those fittings
the bloody dress still fits,
After the wedding comes babies
and you fight over one or two
and the first one is on it's way 
so there's nothing you can do.
Your water breaks on your new rug
The labour pains have started.
And you wonder if you shit yourself
when you accidentally farted.
Everyone tells you to breathe
and that you'll be just fine
but you growl and hiss and spit and swear
that this will be the last time
"You ever get your hands on me,
you total fucking cunt!"
As the watermelon sized baby
comes out a pea sized hole with a grunt.

Your pelvis splits, your fanny rips
with legs in stirrups, spread wide.
As you look down on that tiny face
and your insides burst with pride.
And then you have to watch 
while that bundle of joy grows up
and you'll teach her that being a woman
doesn't actually suck that much.