Tuesday, 4 June 2013

Hell hath no fury

'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', 'The female of the species is more deadlier than the male', 'Dispute not with her; she is lunatic'. See, even Shakespeare knew it - women are evil. Not all women, granted; there may be a certain few who manage to go about their daily lives in a calm, level-headed manner without the compulsion to gossip, bitch or moan. I refer predominantly to nuns, although I suspect this has less to do with religion and more to do with the fact that they don't have to co-habit with men leaving the toilet seat up.

I am a woman myself of course, and therefore allowed to label the majority of the sisterhood as half-crazed hormonal harridans. Men, however, are not able to do this without being labelled as misogynistic gits. As a female, you learn from an early age that we should be sliding somewhere along a spectrum ranging from complicated and emotional, to furious and downright mental. Not that I'm saying we're entirely to blame for our, erm, 'ways'. There are of course certain times in a woman's life that we become slaves to our biology and hormones control us like puppets on strings. For at least one week a month I am magically transformed into a spotty, angry, migraine-addled maniac with an insatiable appetite for pork scratchings and Haribo. And I recall at least one occasion during pregnancy where I broke down sobbing in the baking aisle at Asda because they'd not got any Aunt Bessie's batter mix.

All of the above was entirely beyond my control. Indeed, while men may claim we hide behind our hormones, they can be used as perfectly valid excuses (sorry, REASONS) as to why we act so irrationally at times. In fact, insanity as a result of PMS has been used in murder defences; you might want to remember that fella's, next time you get smart mouthed about 'that time of the month'.

One thing I'll never understand about women (and I'm included in this by the way) is how we act towards one another. Having worked in several different environments over the years, I can say without any hesitation that women are AWFUL to work with. And while we have our good points as friends, you don't want to make an enemy of a woman. No sirree. We're fiercely jealous - of anyone better looking/thinner/curvier/longer-haired/cleverer/younger/more qualified/funnier/more popular than us. But do we use this jealousy to drive us to improve our own situation or appearance? Do we chuff. We badmouth and bitch about each other, as though the more moaning we do, the better we'll feel about ourselves. When you're talking about celebrities, this does actually work. Who here has sat ripping the proverbial out of Cheryl Cole's voice whilst the voice in the back of your head is hissing "damn that cow with her big doe-eyes and tiny waist!"?? Yes, you can put your hands down now ladies. But when we're talking about real life, and the people we actually have to talk to or work with, this is where things get difficult. No-one likes to be on the receiving end of gossip or nastiness, or the subject of bitching.

Life would be so much simpler if we were all men. Men are simple creatures who are easy to fathom and, more importantly, want an easy life. You know where you are with men (in a bedroom smelling of farts and in a bathroom with the seat up mainly). Being a woman isn't so bad though, and I do admit to enjoying a good old bitchfest over a glass of plonk - especially when I can blame it on my hormones. Just a quick warning though - if you see me with pork scratchings and Haribos - run for the hills!

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