Women fart too
My brain has melted into something resembling a soft gooey cheese from the wedding planning so for lack of a better idea I’ve decided that my blog this week is going to be about things men do/have that I am jealous of.
I am constantly surrounded by men. No, it’s not because I look like a young Elizabeth Taylor, because I don’t. It’s because I live with one and a half men (my fiancé and my cat) and work in an office with five men. Nearly 100 percent of the time, I am assaulted with farts, burps, curse words, dirty jokes, corny jokes, unknown smells and the list goes on. My office is a place where I have to wait at least ten minutes to go to the single bathroom after a man has come out. My apartment is also a place where I have to wait at least ten minutes to go to the single bathroom after a man has come out.
So I can safely say that I witness, on a daily basis, the regular behaviors of the male species, and that I’ve become somewhat of an expert of what to expect. And I gotta tell you, I’m more than a little bit jealous. Men can do stuff that woman can’t even dream of getting away with unless you want to get dirty looks and nasty comments. Just one example, farting in public is hilarious if you have a penis. If you are a woman who farts in public, apparently you are disgusting and should be shunned. And as a person who enjoys not constantly experiencing gas cramps, I’m a little bit jealous. Because as you know ladies, we can really rip some juicy farts (you are saying “gross” right now out loud but I know inside you agree with me).
Here’s a small list of other things about men that I am constantly jealous about:
They can pee anywhere. Women can also pee in multiple places, but not without mess and that gross wet feeling from not being able to use toilet paper. Also see, can pee standing up.
They never have to suffer one week a month for at least 40 years. I don’t need to go into gruesome detail here, you get the gist. No bleeding, no cramps, no crying for no reason, no craziness.
They can curse in the crudest ways and no one cares. In fact, some of the more clever original phrases are applauded.
Almost all of their clothing is comfortable… Button downs, boxer shorts, loose pants, sneakers, undershirts, t-shirts, sweatshirts. If any woman reading this has never worn an item of men’s clothing, stop what you are doing and find a man’s sweatshirt. Put it on. Write me a thank you post after you finish moaning in comfort.
…and, no one notices if they wear the same thing every day for a week. Really. They don’t notice! Men will find one shirt that is acceptable to wear to the office and buy five of them in different colors and BAM! instant wardrobe. Same with pants/shoes.
They lose weight faster because of higher muscle content. Case in point, my fiancé and I did a cleanse for a week. He lost 12 pounds. I lost 3. And then we ate a gallon of ice cream. I gained 8 pounds, he lost two more pounds (not really but I bet it would have happened if we did that).
They can sleep around. Probably the worst thing that will happen to a man if he sleeps around is disease. But will anyone ever call him a whore? Not unless he grows a vagina.
However, with all of my “penis envy,” I am happy to be a lady most days. Because it means nail polish, fruity drinks OR beers, makeup experimentation, sundresses, jewelry, stupid reality TV shows on Bravo, bikinis, intelligent jokes, dancing any way I want, hair dye, haircuts, hairstyles, sleepovers, girl talk, wine night, chivalry, no lines at the bar, ridiculously large purses and 150 pairs of shoes all without being teased. So you can keep your penises, guys and try laughing next time your girlfriend farts – we have some really good ones too.
Emily Campbell is a perpetually single, 20-something girl-around-town who loves Shakespeare, old movies, Natty Boh, and of course, long walks on the beach. A sales manager by day and freelance writer by night, she was recently forced into a life of involuntary celibacy when her last relationship fizzled out over a text message. She’s tired of settling for second – or tenth – best, and she’s ready to find Mr. Right. Or, Mr. Nearly Right. No one’s perfect…which she has learned the hard (but hilarious) way.