Granted to varying degrees, but still.
Women are evil.
We are and although we know we are, we must be powerless to change it.
I am not a crier, but I almost hit meltdown the other day when I was frantically trying to figure out what I was going to wear to my very important meeting.
It was to the point that Chris finally asked me why I was so worried about it.
So, I told him:
"You don't understand how women are.
It's awful.
There is no winning, ever.
I am going to be in front of a room full of people for an hour and a half and that gives them ample time to pick apart every big and little flaw that I have.
Even if they are listening to what I have to say, let me also tell you what other things they are thinking about;
if a woman is thin, then she's too thin and must be anorexic;
if a woman is overweight, then she must be lazy and we wonder why she doesn't lose weight;
if a woman has big, perfect boobs, then they're fake;
if a woman has tiny boobs, then she should get implants;
if a woman has perfectly white teeth, then she must bleach them;
if a woman doesn't have perfectly white teeth, then she should bleach them;
if a woman has shiny makeup, then she hasn't put on enough powder;
if a woman has flawless matte makeup, then she must be vain;
if a woman laughs at a mans joke, then she's flirting with him;
if a woman doesn't laugh at a mans joke, then she thinks she's too good for him!
(and by this time, my voice is getter louder and I can feel a little tinge of tears way back in the inner depths of my tear ducts)
You don't understand!
I could stand in front of a room full of men in sweats and a baseball hat and they would probably be thinking about how long it will be before I'm done yapping my mouth so they could head out for lunch, but if I stand in front of a room full of women, they would pick apart every single detail.
Every detail, from the way that I speak, to how I look, to what I say and trust me, they will have honed in on every piece of jewelry that I have on my body and have a mental estimate on just how small or large my wedding ring is.
They will find and note every piece of lint on my black pants and point out that I need new lip gloss AND heaven forbid that I have lipstick on my teeth!
If I were standing in front of a room full of women to tell them that they all just won a gazillion-million dollars, a free cosmetic makeover including the new insta-tiny thigh fat sucker outer, a husband who jumps at their every whim and perfect children who will wear all the silly smocked outfits their parents tried to put them in AND that I had just found the cure for acne, crows feet and cellulite, they would remember one thing.
They would only remember me as the lady who had lipstick on her teeth.
AND to top that off, heaven forbid there be that one woman, that one amazing woman who has it all;
the perfect body, sense of humor, education, husband, house, kids, job, car, wedding ring and plastic surgeon, then you know what would happen?
Do you?
Yep, that's right...we would hate her!
So, we can't win - ever.
That's why you don't understand the pressure in picking out whether I should wear the fully lined black pants or the black pants with the cuffs because whichever one I choose,
will be wrong."
By that time, I think he was rubbing my back and saying something about how much he loved me and that HE thought I was gorgeous - no matter what.
Holy cow.
No wonder why our husbands flee to the golf courses and hunting lodges every time the opportunity presents itself.
We are freakin' crazy.
