According to Marie Claire, (which I found by way of The Hairpin) we women are crazy, but, we have these 'great' excuses as to what makes us crazy. The writer, a man, thinks that this writing proves how crazy we are.
Au contrair, I think he hit the nail on the head. According to him, women are crazy because of the following things:
Nothing to wear
According to him, we act crazy and then we blame one of the above things.
Let's see, hunger? Oh definitely. Actually, I have a scale of hunger-related craziness. With 1 being 'not quite hungry' which is paired with slight snarkiness all the way to a 10, which is full on tummy rumble paired with crying. Yes, if I get that hungry, I will cry. I usually don't let it get that bad. Actually, the last time it was that bad, was because I took my lunch break three hours late. I was STARVING. Know what I did?
Quit my job.
Yep. I went on lunch break and never came back. Now, I'm not directly attributing the quitting of the job to the lack of food, but it didn't really help the cause either.
Tired? You can just ask Brad about that one. There's physical tired and mental tired. While one will leave me laying like a lump on the couch, the other will also leave me a lump on the couch, but with tears.
PMS. I have no idea what you're talking about. Ladies are a ray of sunshine, from morning to night! Hormonal imbalance? Never! Ever!
Nothing to wear? Brad wont even listen to that one anymore. He calls bullshit. Once he might have threatened to punch me for saying it. Guys do not understand. While Brad would be content to wear his black athletic shorts with the gray stripe, topped by a six year old blue ringer tee with brown flip-flops all day, every day, I can not. Clothes are too important. I must match the weather. I must match my mood, both in color and style. Lately I've been feeling more laid back and have worn jeans to work every day. Last week, I ran out of jeans. I was frustrated. It's not that we have 'nothing' to wear, it's that we have nothing appropriate to wear.
When women go to pick out clothes, there is a complicated venn diagram in our head that we create to pick the perfect outfit. And sometimes, when all the circles are laid down, the resulting intersection is something that I don't own. Therefore, I have nothing to wear.
Why can't men understand this?
Is it really that complicated?
I don't think so.
Birthdays. Let's see. First it's a party, which as you know, adds another layer to the clothing venn diagram, so there's that. Then you have the whole 'I'm another year older and staring down the barrel of crows feet and gray hair.' Men? They get distinguished. Women? We just get old. And sad. wrinkled. (Or at least that's how it feels when they're lighting all those candles.) So, yes, birthday's are no fun. I already feel pressure to stop revealing my age to people, lest they use it to draw some kind of conclusion about me.
Excuses? These are not excuses. These are valid reasons for our collective neurosis. I would also like to add:
day of the week
time of day
how incorrect my food is at a restaurant
So, what say you? What makes you absolutely (but justifiably) crazy?