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February 28, 2008

It’s not PMS, it’s your f*****g face

We women are bloody funny. Actually, bloody every month and just sporadically funny. Even when women are being funny it's more a situational comedy-like funny than laugh-out-loud funny. Am I making sense? Of course not, that's also because I am a woman. We say one thing, believe another and could be thinking something totally different.
The politically correct term for it is multi-tasking. Right. Multi-tasking my arse. It can be downright painful I tell you, this ability (or handicap) of thinking three things at a time. Look what it did to Virginia Woolf. While it could cut down output levels -- think of a woman making a PowerPoint presentation while wondering what's for dinner and how she has to send a birthday card and looking at her chipped nail-polish as she types -- it also causes serious damage elsewhere. It makes women COMPLICATED.

Is it any wonder then that two XX chromosomes make a girl and an X-Y chromosome make a boy? Male chromosome = Y = WHY! And female is two crosses. Why am I going on about multitasking, genes and bloody months? Because either or all of the three are currently playing havoc with MANY really nice women/girls/chicks I personally know... All three combined never let us be at peace.

Like period cramps. Unlike a football injury, or a thumb-ache due to too much X-Box-ing or a backache due to sitting on the couch/bed watching TV or a car/bike accident, women don't have to DO anything for that pain. It also makes you moody as hell, which in turn negates any justifiable moodiness or other feelings you might have. She is angry with the boss? PMS. Crying in a movie? PMS. Doesn’t like her boyfriend sharing moments with his Ex? PMS. Doesn’t want to pay tax? PMS. No matter what the reason for a woman EMOTING, it’s become fashionable to say, “Ah, must be PMS.” No you fuck, it’s not PMS; it’s your fucking face. . (For the smart arses: Am not PMS-ing)

Then there’s not knowing what we really want OR if we get what we really want; we doubt it or our luck. Like first we wonder about whether we will meet Him. Then we wonder if He will love us, marry us. Then we marry Him and wonder if He will cheat on us. And if in the stages between meeting and marrying, He goes and dumps us; you’re looking at a lifetime of complicatedness. No matter HOW big a jerk a woman dated, somewhere deep down she will always wonder: Maybe it was my fault?

Like that Jocelyn Wildenstein who went in for drastic facial plastic surgery because she thought her husband was losing interest in her. She lost the husband, her marriage, her fucking face and is now the object of global ridicule. With due respect to every woman who EVER wondered about her man losing interest in her – shall remind myself of this as well – if you have THAT many doubts, don’t lose your face or your money, lose the guy. Yes you might be bitter and lonely for the rest of your life; you won’t be butt ugly.

If the bastard did not stand by you, HE didn’t have a spine. If he slept around, it was because HE could not keep his cock in his pants and NOT because you could not hold on to him (and he will have herpes sooner or later, let’s pray). If he does not like your cooking, let him stay with his mother. If he likes longer legs, let’s hope he finds those legs and then she cleans him out. And if one (two, three, four) boyfriend dumped you, does not mean that every man will. Just incase you DO have a good man in your life, stop blaming him for the other jerks you’ve known. It’s not easy for a man to be nice – nasty's in their nature – so when he's being good, appreciate it!

And since this is threatening to be a rather long post, am stopping here. Oh yes, DON’T read articles/ researches that say men like long legs. Or big boobs. Or low waist-to-hip ratio. There are equal and corresponding numbers of articles that will tell you that women DON’T like man-boobs, skinny thighs, hairy belly buttons or big paunches. And no, James ‘Toni Soprano’ Gandolfini is NO example. It’s a freaking TV show.

This poem is dedicated to all the women I know who for reasons best known to them – and at times to me – are constantly and WRONGFULLY doubting themselves.

Do you really love me Darling?
Am I a passing fad, just another fling?
A drunken fuck, or a moment's thing?

Don't judge me by swollen eyes, the runny nose
I look real hot with makeup and expensive clothes.

Gravity and wrinkles might slightly mar the view
But at least you'd be certain I won't run out on you.

I could be rude, might have a sharp tongue
Twas the wine I say; am not always high strung.

Don't think my cleavage means a lack of inhibition
I gotta keep up honey, there's young competition.

I don't have long legs or taut cheeks like plum
But gimme some credit, there's a spring in my bum.

And no I am not always into superficial looks,
I know current affairs and I know my books.

I can bake a cake and do a rare steak
And be ready in a moment, for you to take.

It's a lil daunting, to think am always on a test.
But baby till you love me, I'll always best the rest.

I know this poem sounds somewhat insecure,
It's just that being a woman, I am not always so sure.

So I constantly compare and end up sounding frantic
Not completely my fault, self-doubt is fucking genetic.

15 comments:

Shruti said...

Ha!Good one!I thought it was only my problem,being insecure even when happiness hits u in the face and doubting abt it,but turns out,im made to be that way....relieved i must say!true you cannot blame PMS for everything...but its always a fall back option...."why are u being so cranky?Its PMS!dont blame me...blame my cycle!"

the mad momma said...

great post JB... though I have to admit I clicked on the link and that jocelyn woman gave me the shivers. Here I blame her... any woman who is freaky enough to try and look like a cat to hold on to her husband - the problem lies within.

loved the verse. wish i could bake and doa rare steak though..

you are quite a woman miss JB.. and its a privilege to know you.

Eve* aka jb said...

Momma...i CANT do a rare stew yet...but going my bloody perfectionist nature...most probabyl will be killin myself over raw meat soon. :( its a privilege to know you too, tho lord knows i feel like shit today. and it aint even pms .nevermind.

shruti: Hello...new here right? Thanks for the comment and yea i use PMS in particular moments..like before attemptin murder. it works best with a suuuweet smile.

Kim said...

Oh I do love you girl. Just when I thought that last scoop of ice cream hit the spot, you post another blog I relate to. Stupid monthly dues SUCK(started this morning)!!

I could not ask for a more loving, caring, well communicative man, but what do I do? Yes, what ALL women do around that special time of the month; analyze the shit out of an already perfect(for the lucky ones)relationship.

It starts out by realizing what a wonderful man you have and how lucky you are to have found one another, (for me it's usually during/after drinking wine that gets me going). THEN one of the voices in your head says, "yes, he loves you, but how much?" You know where this is going; eventually to tears because you are so fearful of losing something so wonderful, freaking the poor guy out, even though you've done what you think is your best at not letting him see you cry, THEN apologize for crying after he asks sweetly, "baby what's wrong?", and being all weird blaming it on the unwanted monthly visit explaining how women are more emotional blah blah blah, which THEN freaks him out even MORE because you won't shut the hell up!

All the while, the poor dude is nodding his head and assuring you the relationship is safe and that he loves while praying to himself that you'll fall for the true, but patronizing line WHICH PISSES YOU OFF. But instead of showing that irritation because you remind yourself of that fear of losing him may turn into a reality if you express how annoying it is when he's patronizing you, so you wait it out by googling 'how to make a relationship work' or 'mens emotional needs that should be me', call girlfriends, write in journal, etc.

By morning you wake up feeling more normal thinking what a freak you are and vow to never let your emotions take over again and turn you into a nut job. When thinking clearly, it's easily to see the foundation of my own personal insecurities;( I love to analyze myself and self diagnose), mine boils down to me being selfish; which explains ALOT about my wants, needs, and why I don't want to reproduce. The fact of how I don't want to be like my mother syndrome definitely plays a huge role as well.

Thank you again for allowing us headcase women share our thoughts :)

Eve* aka jb said...

Kim ---- your words made me crack up...and thats the first laugh for today, which i SORELY needed!!! And ugh to monthlies...hot water bottle/bag? I hate pain killers though. And lets not even start on the over analyzin thing....LOOK at this blog! (grin) And HAHAHAHAHA @ "I don't want to be like my mother syndrome definitely plays a huge role as well." BINGO girl is what am gonna say to THAT one. to quote a line from one of the hindi movis here,
Dad to son: You are such a loser, why were you born in my family?
Nonchalant son: I dont know, you tell me...I sure as hell did not put in an application.
(warm e-hug)

oh yes...when drunk i become a bigger bitch than i normally can be...its when i smoke up that i just CANNOT stop talking!!

Aditi said...

You're where Mary Angelou and Wendy Cope meet!

Love the poem - and soon song, i hope?

cheers.

pseudolegolas said...

miss XX-------other side of the hedge always looks greener.......

Eve* aka jb said...

Legolas -- who are you referring to? And again, do i sense a targetting of someone here?

Pallavi said...

luv u gal..d poem and the post completely discribes my current situation. Especially the paragraph "If the bastard..." Amazing post. Raed it a day later early in the morning..and believe in me ..it made my day more happier and better..And yes in case you want more live examples i'm sure i can be of great help to you. All the best and keep on posting such lovely posts.

shveta said...

Hi,Loved this one..guess men just find a nice way of shrugging responsibility everytime...the ones who need to keep hopping are probably the insecure breed who need constant reassurance n if they cant find peace with themselves, theyre sure to wreck the others'..ya its sad i hear of women trying to always dance to the galleries in fear of loosing him to others but if its all centred around the bed, the chances of the relationship running dry sooner or later is unavoidable..Though being a woman i sometimes wonder when i see a stay dog coming around, why do i like to feed him and pet him..much more...is it maternal instincts that later translates into wanting his undivided attention where as his overriding factor is hunger and theres nothing stopping him from going to other succours11

pseudolegolas said...

am i always so unclear????????

Pointblank said...

babe, I have tagged u! pick it up from ma blog!

Shruti said...

hey how do i get in touch with u?wats ur email?and if it isnt implied,i absolutely adore ur blog!

Anonymous said...

A new fan on board, Eve. i loved the poem!
And I sat back and read almost all your old posts in one go..I really should be working! But this is hilariously addictive!
Will come back for more!

-GYPSY

Lucifer said...

Frenetic is a better rhyme for genetic.