For Males Only, Unless You're Female | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: For Males Only, Unless You're Female | Previous Challenge Entry
By Dianne Janak
08/18/07
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Dear youth, or anyone under sixty,

After patiently waiting for this denial -laden- birthday, it’s finally time to give my first bit of unsolicited advice. I really need a drum roll here. At least that.

Noticing through experience that there’s a pattern of conflict between the sexes, I’ve been gravely meditating on a remedy.

Men seem to view women as confusing and mysterious. To us there’s no problem. We are. It empowers us.

My desire today is to keep confusing the men in order to further empower the women. If the men actually hear me, we may even submit. (at least for a couple of hours)

Some things are taken way too seriously, necessitating a need to lighten up. Hormonally speaking, I have learned a few tricks. Learn to laugh at PMS and Mental Pause. When I start to feel a rage coming on, I warn all the males within 5 miles..…

“I am woman, hear my roar.
If you don’t like it, there’s the door.”

This deflates the tension dramatically.

My husband finally learned how to respond to that with:

“I am husband, lots to fear.
When you roar, I’m outa here.”

This one trick should save lots of marriages and/or lives.

Men, you seem to think we’re just using hormones as an excuse. Speaking for all of us, that is hilarious.

We tell our children everyday… “there’s no excuse for… whatever”. We just don’t tolerate excuses. Now I know why.

There’s a limited amount of them floating around , and now it’s OUR time to grab them. Excuses are hard earned so don’t mess with them. We cherish them deeply.

I had to call the cops once, bless their hearts, to report my stolen car at the grocery store. After much interrogation a light bulb went off. I’d been looking for the wrong car. Excusing it as a menopausal senior moment with body temperature maxing out, I felt vindicated.

My husband doesn’t let me tell that story in his presence. He needs to lighten.

Men, if you keep telling your woman she has issues, here is another tip. We love issues as much as excuses.

Give me a good issue, and I bond with that many more women. We like bonding, so collecting issues is a life long achievement. Some issues don’t need therapy, others do. That doesn’t stop us, so that threat is harmless.

Getting therapy is rather fun. Paying someone to hear us out is gratifying. It’s your money, and we get to talk.

One of my favorite excuses is blaming our parents. (although of course our kids are not allowed these, even as adults) They didn’t always do a great job in training us about hormonal issues. The monthly period was called the “CURSE.” Think about that.

The only frame of reference we had about the curse is it’s a witch thing. We grew up thinking witches hate girls. Am I making any logical, rational sense yet? Hope not. I had no intention of making sense, therein lies our charm. But it doesn’t stop with the curse.

I used to hear my mom talk to her women friends on the phone about the “change.”

“Did you know Nancy left the bridge party in a huff the other day? I think she must be going through the change.”

Hearing that, my imagination went into overdrive. What is Nancy turning into? Maybe after years of the curse, women change into what?

Dracula?

I hid when Nancy came over. When I heard my mom telling someone she feels the CHANGE coming on, and I didn’t sleep for months. From the curse of witches to the change of Dracula, what on earth do you expect? We had to develop the roar to defend ourselves.

The female baby boomer generation is just now as I write, entering into the beautiful stage of mental pause, after being cursed for years. Global warming is no mystery to us. Had they asked us we could have solved the mystery. Think of the millions of hot flashers out there. Our poor planet may just melt.

So see, my dear testosterone friends, we have earned excuses, we love issues, we need to roar to fight off curses and we have reinvented Dracula into a beast of great beauty.

And with that my dear friends, I bid adieu.

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