So back in college I took this feministy class (it fulfilled some weird requirement, not that I don’t believe in equality, I just don’t believe in sitting next to some woman who doesn’t shave her armpits but likes to raise her hand a lot in class), and I remember a discussion we had about God. “How do we know God is a man?” someone asked.
You know, at the time I was only like 19 and stupid and thinking about some frat guy I was pining over (side note, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you can just flip two letters in the word frat and it spells fart), but after all of these years I finally have an answer. There is no way God is a woman. NO F’ING WAY. How do I know? Wellll, here we go. Ten reasons I am 200% damn sure God is not a woman:
1. The size of the birth canal verses the size of a baby’s head. It’s like God made Adam and He was like awww shit, there’s no way a baby can go through that pee hole. I’ll have to make a woman now and I’ll make her hole a little bigger. So He did but He was watching a football game at the time or something and got distracted and it still really wasn’t big enough.
2. Vajayjay/Pink taco/bearded clam/whatever the hell you want to call it. WTF, God? Have you ever tried to pee in the woods? Or on one of those hole toilets they have in foreign countries? Because that’s when I have some serious penis envy. What I’d give to be able to pee in a Gatorade bottle going 65 mph down the highway instead of stopping at the nasty ass Chevron bathroom that has a centimeter (when did I become European?) of sludge on the floor and poop splatter all over the toilet bowl. Men get this awesome built-in water gun while women get a bunch of flaps that make it hard to find their clitoris.
3. Unwanted hair. If God were a woman, She would have made sure that no woman EVER has a mustache. Or hair on her toes. Or hair on her back. In fact, if God were a woman, She wouldn’t have even let men have as much hair on their bodies as they do sometimes. Have you seen Robin Williams’ arms? A woman is definitely not responsible for this.
4. Boobies/Tatas/Funbags. So here’s the thing. If God were a woman, breasts would totally be inflatable. Then you could pump them up like some kick ass Air Nikes when you’re going out on the town, but release all the air and have a little boy chest when you’re going out for a run.
5. Breastfeeding. And here’s another thing about breasts. If God were a woman, they’d be detachable. That way when we’re breastfeeding we could leave them in our baby’s crib at night. Although one day they’d probably be banned just like bumpers or blankets and moms would talk about the good ole days when you used to be able to leave your breasts in the crib and get a good night sleep.
6. Breastfeeding. Nope, not a typo.It deserves two as far as I’m concerned. If God were a woman, the beginnings of breastfeeding wouldn’t feel like you’re dangling your boobs into a giant tank of piranhas that haven’t eaten in two weeks. Nope, it’d feel like baby unicorns kissing your nipples while drinking a mai tai on the beaches of Fiji. You know, like the way lactation consultants say it’s supposed to feel.
7. Leaky eyes. OMG, why the fuck do I tear up at just about anything even remotely emotional? Like when that illustrated mermaid grew legs and got to go live with a made-up prince. I cried. Or in that stupid, sappy commercial where the next-door neighbor gave the old lady a Hallmark card. Yup, I cried. The opening credits for Parenthood come on and snot’s pouring from my nose and I’m like somebody get me a tissue ASAP. Fucking Cinderella takes a crap and I’m a sobbing mess. And not in the same way I cry when my hubby takes a dookie.
8. Internal temperature gauge. Or whatever the fuck you call it that makes us freezing cold if we’re not sitting in a sauna. I’m always asking my husband, “Did you turn down the thermostat?” and he’s like, “I haven’t touched it in weeks,” and I don’t believe him until I walk over and see that he’s not lying at all, it’s 72 like it always is. Then why the F does it feel like it’s 50 degrees in here? Oh yeah, because I’m a woman. I always say I want to go to hell because it’s going to be filled with fun people, but the truth is I want to go there because I’m pretty damn sure it’s the only place on earth (or inside earth) that I’m not going to need a cardigan and a throw blanket. Plus, I’m pretty sure they’re serving margaritas there. At least that’s what I hear.
9. Pregnancy side effects. Okay, there isn’t enough room on the whole entire internet to write all of them, so I’m just going to talk about the worst one I experienced. My supernumerary nipple. Yeah, that’s F’ing right, when I was preggers I got a third nipple. Hubby gave me the hot beef injection, a baby and the most beautiful accessory nipple you’ve ever seen. At least that’s what the doctor called it. In my subjective opinion, if they don’t sell it at Bloomies it ain’t a fucking accessory. There is no way a female God agreed that pregnancy would be accompanied by side effects like hemorrhoids and accessory nipples.
10. Menstruation. Okay, can I start by asking the obvious? Why the fuck does this word start with men. Oh yeah, because only a man would have come up with this shit. Yo women, every month you’re going to bleed from your hoo-ha. And as if that’s not enough, your FUPA’s gonna cramp up and your boobs might be sore, and you’re gonna want to eat chocolate like 24/7, and you’re gonna have permafrown, and when your boyfriend or husband asks for sex you’re going to have to whisper, “It’s that time of the month,” but you’ll say it so quietly he’ll ask, “What?” and you’ll try to say something less embarrassing and more cryptic like, “Aunt Flo is visiting,” and he’ll be like, “Awww shit, in our guest room?” and you’ll finally be like, “I HAVE MY FUCKING PERIOD, OKAY???!!!!” And he’ll finally get a clue. So yeah, I’m pretty damn sure a woman did not come up with MENstruation.
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