In my 25 years on this planet i have endured 2 whole years of pregnancy in total, three labours, approximately 84 experiences of the dreaded 'curse', 2/3 years of puberty, regular bouts of PMT and hormonal outbursts and have had the whole world see more of my body than I care to imagine. Yet still if push came to shove, (quite literally) I'd choose being female over being male any day of the year, (except perhaps for 5-7 days once a month, but let's not get too specific.)




Of course if Mother Nature employed me as her apprentice I might suggest one or two changes for the female breed . . . maybe abolish one, if not all, of the aforementioned women's issues? At the very least I'd add a few extra perks to being female, (like removing the calories and fat from chocolate perhaps?) but overall I think Mother Nature has already done a pretty amazing job.




Now I'm not going to turn all diva-ish here by chanting, 'Girl Power,' and pouting at every opportunity, and I don't want to alienate the opposite sex by slating them - I'm no man-hater at all, far from it, (I have always listed 'boys' as one of my hobbies,) yet despite my love for and general interest in boys, (which started at a very tender age for me,) it has to be said that in the age-old battle of the sexes, I'm on team 'G' all the way.




Women, are, quite frankly, creatures of utter amazement to me. Not only are we better looking, (in most cases) than our male counterparts, and much, much more mature, we can also handle many a task with greater speed and efficiency than the boys. And we can grow babies. And you can't get better than that. So there.




I do have a great fondness for boys, and i can admire a decent man for more than just the sweetness of eye candy that he may produce, but i think i'll always have more admiration and be more impressed by the powers of a woman.




'Girl Power,' and all that it entails, has long been a statement that I secretly quite like. Not because I'm a huge fan of the platform wearing, badly dressed, irritatingly catchy Spice Girls, (though i cannot deny to being a bit of a closet fan,) but because I truly believe in it. I truly believe that girl power should never be under estimated.




Despite the Spice Girls injecting us with a severe dose of Girl Power back in the day, I don't really believe they can claim to be the inventors of it. Nor do i believe Maggie Thatcher was the one that bore the idea of Girl Power. It started way before all that . . .




Some might say the concept of Girl Power began back in the day by the hippy chick from the 60's, the one with the gravity-defying tits, (which she must have possessed, why else would she insist we all burn our bra's?!) - but I don't believe that either.




In fact, my friends, I can tell you exactly when and where Girl Power was born. I sussed it ages and ages ago. It all started with a girl named Eve, whom successfully seduced a boy named Adam and had her name in the bible for doing so.




And ever since that day those fortunate enough to have been born without the (I imagine rather uncomfortable,) funny bits between the legs, (and they are funny, don't you agree?) have been able to celebrate. So long as they have had the ability to recognised the gift of Girl Power bestowed upon them in the first place.




Plenty of us girlies out there don't realise how lucky we are. We cannot seem to see the extent of the powers we have at our manicured finger-tips. Too many men have tried to make us appear the weaker sex and too many policies have tried to suppress our powers. But let's face it ladies, without us the boys would be screwed, (and not in the way in which they'd like perhaps.)




If you've ever witnessed a woman give birth I'm sure you'd agree, (in fact you only need witness any female species give birth to be amazed. Take our Tinkerbell, for example, she gave life to, not one, but ten gorgeous little kitties all by herself, which is more than the tom-cat who got her up the duff in the first place can say. He didn't even show up to check on his babies, let alone offer to pay any form of kitty support or maintenance.) - It is an amazing feat for any girl to survive, and it so deserves recognition. (Preferably in the form of Shoes and Handbags please folks!)




But I'm not saying that only us Mummies deserve to be celebrated, because wonders of pregnancy and child-birth aside, we girlies do have a lot on our plates, and it certainly isn't easy being a girl.




Sure we have cheaper car insurance, the right to be irrational from time to time, the ability to transform ourselves with Make-Up and beauty products, the wonders of the Wonderbra and the ability to manipulate almost any situation with a simple flutter of the eyelashes and a cheeky smile. Yet there are negatives too that can never be ignored.




There is very little dignity in being female. Just the other day when making an appointment with the nurse in my local surgery I was practically forced by the bitch on the desk to explain the nature of the appointment. Try as I might i couldn't help but blush when I found myself half-whispering the word, 'Contraception,' and thus raising many an eyebrow amongst those sitting close by in the waiting room. Guys don't have to deal with that sort of embarrassment.




Then there's the day when Aunt Flow comes a'calling for the first time in a young girls life, marking the day when she officially begins to transcend from being a little care-free girl with pigtails and an obsession with bikes, to being a woman, with PMT and horrible cramps. It isn't pretty, it isn't fun and yet we have very little say on the matter at all.




Physical changes in a woman's life are one thing, but the mental aspects can be even worse. It might be a nightmare spending time with an unreasonable psycho bitch from hell, but you wanna try being in the mind of one. It's like undergoing a personality transplant with your eyes wide open and there's nothing you can do about it.




We all know the signs, we begin to get agitated by the slightest thing. Something someone says, something someone doesn't say. You could be on your own in paradise and you'd still find something that pisses you off. Irritability begins to bubble until eventually you boil over, erupting like a volcano and spreading red-hot lather upon anyone, or any thing, that might just happen to be within throwing distance. We know we are being unreasonable. We know our actions are out of order, and yet we just cannot contain it. And all the while we have to deal with such hilarious jokes such as, 'That time of the month darlin??' or, 'Cheer up love, might never happen!!' Woe betide a man who makes such comments in my direction, I'd make 'em wish they were never born.




But you know what else? We don't even support one another these days. The secret society of sisterhood is certainly not always readily available, (unless it is so secret that I rarely discover it?!) and instead of uniting in all that is feminine we have an unattractive tendency to bitch about one another. We're all too quick to judge each other as women. On our choices in men, the choices we make as mothers, the decisions we choose surrounding our careers. We point fingers, as though it's gonna make us feel better about the people we are, but it doesn't, instead it just makes us cynical and lonely.




I think if Mother Nature did employ me I'd change all that, but in the meantime I can only control myself and ensure that I don't judge or bitch. Instead I will officially declare myself a 'girls' girl.' and I'd like to urge you to join me.




So here's what we're gonna do. We're going to remain in our bra's (afterall we all look better in them, let's leave the burning to the boys,) we're going to smile at each other, support one another and put the competitions aside. We're gonna strutt with pride, sway our child-bearing hips and shake our booties at the boys and then we're going to remember that no matter what choices we make, what routes we choose to take (oh god this is all rhyming and is beginning to sound like one of those,'new age poems') – with the right pair of heels on and our pals beside us, we really can conquer the world.




By Steph, (whom does not possess a willy but is proud nevertheless.)




x

 
 

Now before I continue I would just like to state, for the record, that I am ordinarily a very good girl with a very pure mind 0:-)

It is therefore necessary that I warn you that the contents of today’s blog may shock and/or disgust some. (And at the very least it may leave you with an icky taste in your mouth. No pun intended.)



Please continue to read with caution and if you happen to be a relative of mine, (particularly an older relative—Mum, Dad, Nan, etc) please refrain from reading any further. Otherwise family BBQ’s may never be the same again.



You see, ladies and gentlemen, today’s letter is ‘S’ and the topic is ‘Sperm.’



(You see Dad, told you you wouldn’t want to read it!)



In keeping with my ‘GET THIS BABY OUTTA ME,’ experiment I have found myself stumbling upon sperm, (not literally, thank god!) as yet another method of naturally inducing labour.  You’ve heard it all before no doubt, how ‘getting jiggy’ is a sure-fire way of kick starting contractions?! Well it turns out that this method is less about the love sword and more about the nuts, (the tadpoles to be more specific.)



For the purpose of my experiment I have decided to investigate the theory a little further.—So if you wouldn’t mind holding my bag ladies, I’m going in. ;-)



I’ve conducted a fair amount of research for today’s blog, (can I get an, ‘Oooooohhhh’ ?!) - Not practical , nor oral research, (though I fear that part is *ahem* coming,)  but certainly a fair amount of scientific research in theory, so I’m hoping you are suitably impressed with this, since, as you know, I am not a scientific kinda gal. But you see I felt it was necessary to gather the facts before I go recommending you hook up with any old Tom, Dick or Harry in order to get yourself into labour. (You see, I am so caring and lovely.)



At risk of sounding like a bimbo in a shampoo advert, here is the science part . . .

Semen contains hormones known as prostaglandins which help ripen the cervix and thus make it dilate, (the cervix needs to dilate to around 10cm’s for the baby to pass through.) If you’re past your due date your doctor would probably use a prostaglandin gel to get you started. It’s the exact same hormone as found in semen. :-)



It is thought that ingesting the er spunk (is it odd that I am making myself blush with these words??! Lol) is even more effective in helping the cervix soften than actually applying in topically.



So there you have it, it would seem that the answer to all my personal prayers could be ready and waiting in my husbands pants. (Wipe that smile from your face now please darling, thank you.) ;-)



Unfortunately though there is very little evidence to show how effective this method of inducing labour is, because apparently, (and I’m not sure I can quite believe this) - the method of using semen to start labour hasn’t been tested enough.  (Are they serious??! Not tested enough?? Is there a pregnant woman in the world who hasn’t tried to straddle her man in an attempt to get his creation to vacate her body?! Ah well, apparently not, according to the experts.)



Clearly we are going to have to take matters into our own hands ladies. YES. There is only one thing to be done . . . And it is in the interest of generating World Peace (amongst heavily pregnant women, their partners, families, friends and any other poor soul that has to put up with the whinging.)



And so if I could invite you all one-by-one to put down your Gaviscon, stand on your poor swollen footsies, grab your man, (or any man for that matter) and come forth . . .  (I am aware that this post is littered with all kinds of innuendoes and for that I apologise lol)



This appeal is for pregnant ladies everywhere to um, (how to put this . . . ?!) please, for the good of the group, include a little semen into your diets. That’s right girls, semen on toast, semen in tea. Whichever way you like it. Let us get these baby’s outta us, one for all and all for one! And, just as The Beatles once suggested, let us sing at the tops of our voices, ‘Come Together, Right Now . . . Over me!’



(I told you this blog post would leave you with an icky taste in your mouth! - I’m so so sorry! And if it’s any consolation I feel sick now too!!)



Please remember to use my comment form to post your success rates and of course any other tips you’d like to add! (Recipes perhaps?!) You can report back anonymously should you wish, just as long as we all know the results of our very scientific project.



Go forth ladies and good luck! Report back with progress :-) (And I will too of course!)



With Love (and toothpaste on hand.)



Steph x



P.S—If you do decide that to conduct your experiment in the conventional way, (by humping) please be aware that orgasm and nipple stimulation is also meant to kick-start contractions too :-)