So, I had my period last week, which meant my ladybusiness was closed for normal sexual operations until further notice. I feel completely and utterly unsexy when my uterine lining is shedding and I have stuff a wad of dried, bleached cotton up there to keep it under control. Not only that, but I have this ongoing sense of anxiety, dread and leftover irritability from PMSing. Essentially, I am not in my finest form.

That said, it doesn’t stop me from thinking about period sex in theory. I know that if I threw down a red towel, handed my boyfriend a condom, and said “proceed carefully,” he would totally be game (in fact, when we were first dating and I was completely insatiable, we did it a few times). I know plenty of women who say that they find themselves even more horny on their period than at any other time of the month. And yet, period sex is still something that seems kind of taboo. I’m sure part of it stems from our (as ladies) discomfort and overall icky feeling. But I also feel like a lot of it is because dudes, in general, are completely repulsed.

Considering that menstruation is a normal bodily occurrence that affects over half of the population, you’d think the stigma and weirdness surrounding periods would be a lot less omnipresent. But our society still treats it like it’s  really gross and shameful. I have friends whose moms refused to have conversations about periods with them. It wasn’t until this year that an ad for sanitary napkins actually featured “blood.” Religions all around the world have questionable perceptions of menstruation.  It’s no wonder that many of us, as females, become pretty icked  out by our own bodies from anywhere from 15-25% of each month. So naturally, guys aren’t exactly going to be super enlightened and progressive about periods either. My boyfriend didn’t know what a tampon looked like before he met me, and was utterly fascinated. Guys balk at the idea of buying tampons or pads for their girlfriends (like the cashier is going to think they’re the ones bleeding…) But, really, periods are such a non-entity in the grand scheme of things. They may be bloody and inconvenient, but they’re natural,  healthy, not embarrassing and a confirmation that you’re not knocked up.

When even AskMen is publishing articles on engaging in period sex, perhaps it’s time to be a little less skeeved out about the idea of sexy time during shark week. If period sex truly is unappealing to you, of course you shouldn’t engage in it. But if it’s something that you would be into, don’t be afraid to bring it up to your partner. A good partner, even if they’re not into the idea, is not going to make you feel disgusting or unreasonable for wanting it. There’s no reason to forgo sex every time you bleed (especially since the average woman spends 3500 days menstruating).

Houston, we might have a problem: this is one big step for mankind everywhere! But, uh, what about the girls?

Since obdurate feminists the world over will be screaming sexism before the day is through, we at CollegeCandy hope to add some fuel to the fire. With a list of five more safe houses for the men in our lives, lets explore the reasons why men often need to duck and cover when it comes to women.

1. We Like to Shop for Clothes

Pretend you’re a man. What’s worse? Clothes or furniture shopping? Before you answer, no, I’m not talking lingerie shopping. That’s a whole ‘nother topic entirely. If you thought furniture shopping was downright awful, wait until you’re forced to hold bag after bag and sit through 45435345 dressing room try-ons.  And if you hesitate for even a moment, men, we know you think we’re ugly and we’re fat. Or that you’re picturing the girl in the next fitting room naked. If nothing looks good or fits right, our moods will be ruined for the rest of the afternoon. The solution? A “man-cave” similar to the kind you’ll find in IKEA Sydney. Told you the Swedes are ahead of the ball.

2. We Get Pre- and Post-PMS

What, did you think PMS only lasted a week? Sorry to bust your bubble babe, but lets get real. The salty, sweet, repeat cravings start well before nature takes its toll on our uteri. Be prepared to run with any type of mood swing we’re experiencing, we guarantee it’ll change again within the next hour or so. Then, there’s the week after. Yup, still bitchy. If you want to be ready, play like Clooney and gear up to ride out the Perfect Storm.

3.  We Always Love Chick-Flicks

And that will never, ever change. So quick, before I keep going, go ahead and schedule poker night for the same night as the premiere of Crazy, Stupid, Love. Even though we may already have an outstanding collection of chick-flicks to view at home whenever we want, nothing quite beats getting dressed up and spending a night at the movies, head resting on your shoulder, bawling our eyes out as Ryan Gosling professes his love at the end of the film. The solution? 3D glasses that actually play another movie. Case closed, enjoy a night out with your honey without ever having to shed a fake tear.

4.  It Will Take Us Longer to Get Ready than You

A word to the wise: please, please, please let us get ready in peace. We know you can hop out of the shower and into your clothes in a matter of moments but it takes us way, way longer than that. We have to do our hair, and then we have to stare at our hair in the mirror and fix it. Again. Then when it’s time to get dressed, we have to try on several different outfits. And fix our hair again. Next we have to find shoes. Get where I’m going with this? So here is one proposed cure: locate the remote, then secure yourself in front of the TV. Once you’ve gotten that far, find ESPN and do not, do not, ask us again when we’re going to be ready. If you want to avoid taking a stiletto to the face, just be patient. Trust me.

5. Our PMS is Real

If pre- and post-PMS were not enough to drive you crazy, welcome to the must awful time of the year that happens every month. Due to the fact that PMS is completely different and crazy for every woman on this planet, let me just say this: build yourself a bunker. Stock it full of junk food, pillows  and earplugs. For the safety of men everywhere, stay inside the walls of said bunker and do not leave. Conditions may be worse than any earthquake, hurricane or other natural disaster you may have experienced before. Proceed with caution and heed our very emotional warnings.

Okay, so while the Swedes one-upped the world in Sydney this week, there is still more cave excavation to be done. Men of the world, rejoice, there is relief waiting for you.

Women, stay classy and when the time is right, stay crazy. It’s our natural right as descendants from the craziest bitch herself, Mother Earth.

**Disclaimer: This post is meant to be stereotypical, potentially mildly offensive, and completely farcical. Any viewpoints endorsed by the author are her true beliefs, although if you asked her, she’d deny it.**

I woke up this morning in a mood. I had a fight with my Ish last night. (You know, the guy in your life who isn’t quite your boyfriend, but is more than the guy you’re dating; he’s boyfriend-ish). It wasn’t even really a fight. It was me being frustrated at him for various reasons, expressing that frustration, and him responding in an even more frustrating, nonchalant way. So I went to bed mad, and, not surprisingly, I woke up mad.

But I don’t blame my Ish. At least that small part of me that is actually rational doesn’t. I blame my anger on my girl brain, the (overwhelmingly large) part of my brain that I hate. I know that everybody knows what I’m talking about because, face it, you have a girl brain, too. And you probably hate it for the same reasons I do.

1. My stupid girl brain makes me overanalyze everything.

What I say: “Ish, I am mad because you aren’t affectionate and that makes me think you don’t like me.”

What Ish says: “I do like you. I’m just not an exceptionally affectionate person like you are.”

What my ears hear: “I do like you. I’m just not an exceptionally affectionate person like you are.”

What my girl brain hears: “You’re right. I don’t like you. Actually, the thought of hugging or kissing you makes me want to throw up and run away.”

This happens in all sorts of situations, not just with Ish. It happens with friends, roommates, and professors. I overanalyze everyday sentences and make them into things they are not. Usually into something passive aggressive meant to slight me in some horrible way. My logical brain knows this is not the truth, but my girl brain makes it so.

2. My stupid girl brain makes ridiculous demands.

What my girl brain says: “I WANT CHOCOLATE!!!”

What I say: “Girl brain, it’s 7:30am. No chocolate.”

What my girl brain says: “YOU WILL GET ME CHOCOLATE NOW OR I WILL RELEASE A FLOOD OF HORMONES SO HORRIFIC YOU WILL UNCONTROLLABLY SOB FROM NOW UNTIL NEXT WEEK!”

What I say: “You win, girl brain. You win.”

3. My stupid girl brain makes me sob uncontrollably.

What I say: “Today is a good day for laundry. I should also reorganize my dresser drawers.”
[I then proceed to remove and re-fold everything in my dresser, when girl brain interrupts my progress.]

What my girl brain says: “Why can’t you fold this sweater??? Your lack of legitimate motor skills is really, really sad. Not sad in the pathetic way, but sad in the tears and other fluids spewing from your face kinda way.”

Yes, every few weeks I cry uncontrollably about nothing. Last week I really did cry all day because I couldn’t fold a sweater properly. Then I got an eyelash in my eye. That really pushed me over the edge.

4. My stupid girl brain is mean and critical.

What I say: “These jeans fit perfectly. And they’d look so cute with my new riding boots!”

What my girl brain says: “What is with that little strip of fat poking out of the top? And look at your thighs! Maybe these would look better on you if you stopped eating chocolate at 7:30 in the morning.”

5. My stupid girl brain is masochistic.

What I say: “No, you’re not going to look at the ex’s new girlfriend’s photos on Facebook. You’ve got better things to do with your time. Plus, you’ve got someone new so you don’t care.”

What my girl brain says: “YOU WILL LOOK AT THOSE PHOTOS RIGHT NOW. THEN YOU WILL LOOK AT ALL OF HER FRIENDS’ PHOTOS. Then you will ask your friends to look at them and tell you that you are prettier. And happier. And so much better off without him.”

What I say (while eating a bag of Fritos in bed): I HATE YOU, GIRL BRAIN.

—

I love being a girl (especially because I can use makeup to cover up the puffy, post-sob fest dark circles under my eyes), but sometimes this girl brain thing is just too much. I’m irrational, I’m angry, I’m emotional…and hard as I try, there’s nothing I can do to change it. Much like boobs and the ability to have children, it sorta comes with the territory. And that just makes my girl brain rage even more.

Sigh. Grrr. Sob.

[This story was originally posted by Morgan - George Washington University.]

**Disclaimer: This post is meant to be stereotypical, potentially mildly offensive, and completely farcical. Any viewpoints endorsed by the author are her true beliefs, although if you asked her, she’d deny it.**

I woke up this morning in a mood. I had a fight with my Ish last night. (You know, the guy in your life who isn’t quite your boyfriend, but is more than the guy you’re dating; he’s boyfriend-ish). It wasn’t even really a fight. It was me being frustrated at him for various reasons, expressing that frustration, and him responding in an even more frustrating, nonchalant way. So I went to bed mad, and, not surprisingly, I woke up mad.

But I don’t blame my Ish. At least that small part of me that is actually rational doesn’t. I blame my anger on my girl brain, the (overwhelmingly large) part of my brain that I hate. I know that everybody knows what I’m talking about because, face it, you have a girl brain, too. And you probably hate it for the same reasons I do.

1. My stupid girl brain makes me overanalyze everything.

What I say: “Ish, I am mad because you aren’t affectionate and that makes me think you don’t like me.”

What Ish says: “I do like you. I’m just not an exceptionally affectionate person like you are.”

What my ears hear: “I do like you. I’m just not an exceptionally affectionate person like you are.”

What my girl brain hears: “You’re right. I don’t like you. Actually, the thought of hugging or kissing you makes me want to throw up and run away.”

This happens in all sorts of situations, not just with Ish. It happens with friends, roommates, and professors. I overanalyze everyday sentences and make them into things they are not. Usually into something passive aggressive meant to slight me in some horrible way. My logical brain knows this is not the truth, but my girl brain makes it so.

2. My stupid girl brain makes ridiculous demands.

What my girl brain says: “I WANT CHOCOLATE!!!”

What I say: “Girl brain, it’s 7:30am. No chocolate.”

What my girl brain says: “YOU WILL GET ME CHOCOLATE NOW OR I WILL RELEASE A FLOOD OF HORMONES SO HORRIFIC YOU WILL UNCONTROLLABLY SOB FROM NOW UNTIL NEXT WEEK!”

What I say: “You win, girl brain. You win.”

3. My stupid girl brain makes me sob uncontrollably.

What I say: “Today is a good day for laundry. I should also reorganize my dresser drawers.”
[I then proceed to remove and re-fold everything in my dresser, when girl brain interrupts my progress.]

What my girl brain says: “Why can’t you fold this sweater??? Your lack of legitimate motor skills is really, really sad. Not sad in the pathetic way, but sad in the tears and other fluids spewing from your face kinda way.”

Yes, every few weeks I cry uncontrollably about nothing. Last week I really did cry all day because I couldn’t fold a sweater properly. Then I got an eyelash in my eye. That really pushed me over the edge.

4. My stupid girl brain is mean and critical.

What I say: “These jeans fit perfectly. And they’d look so cute with my new riding boots!”

What my girl brain says: “What is with that little strip of fat poking out of the top? And look at your thighs! Maybe these would look better on you if you stopped eating chocolate at 7:30 in the morning.”

5. My stupid girl brain is masochistic.

What I say: “No, you’re not going to look at the ex’s new girlfriend’s photos on Facebook. You’ve got better things to do with your time. Plus, you’ve got someone new so you don’t care.”

What my girl brain says: “YOU WILL LOOK AT THOSE PHOTOS RIGHT NOW. THEN YOU WILL LOOK AT ALL OF HER FRIENDS’ PHOTOS. Then you will ask your friends to look at them and tell you that you are prettier. And happier. And so much better off without him.”

What I say (while eating a bag of Fritos in bed): I HATE YOU, GIRL BRAIN.

—

I love being a girl (especially because I can use makeup to cover up the puffy, post-sob fest dark circles under my eyes), but sometimes this girl brain thing is just too much. I’m irrational, I’m angry, I’m emotional…and hard as I try, there’s nothing I can do to change it. Much like boobs and the ability to have children, it sorta comes with the territory. And that just makes my girl brain rage even more.

Sigh. Grrr. Sob.

[This post is a favorite of CollegeCandy fan, Haleigh. (It also happens to be one of our faves at CC HQ.) Thanks for reading, girl!]

**Disclaimer: This post is meant to be stereotypical, potentially mildly offensive, and completely farcical. Any viewpoints endorsed by the author are her true beliefs, although if you asked her, she’d deny it.**

I woke up this morning in a mood. I had a fight with my Ish last night. (You know, the guy in your life who isn’t quite your boyfriend, but is more than the guy you’re dating; he’s boyfriend-ish). It wasn’t even really a fight. It was me being frustrated at him for various reasons, expressing that frustration, and him responding in an even more frustrating, nonchalant way. So I went to bed mad, and, not surprisingly, I woke up mad.

But I don’t blame my Ish. At least that small part of me that is actually rational doesn’t. I blame my anger on my girl brain, the (overwhelmingly large) part of my brain that I hate. I know that everybody knows what I’m talking about because, face it, you have a girl brain, too. And you probably hate it for the same reasons I do.

1. My stupid girl brain makes me overanalyze everything.

What I say: “Ish, I am mad because you aren’t affectionate and that makes me think you don’t like me.”

What Ish says: “I do like you. I’m just not an exceptionally affectionate person like you are.”

What my ears hear: “I do like you. I’m just not an exceptionally affectionate person like you are.”

What my girl brain hears: “You’re right. I don’t like you. Actually, the thought of hugging or kissing you makes me want to throw up and run away.”

This happens in all sorts of situations, not just with Ish. It happens with friends, roommates, and professors. I overanalyze everyday sentences and make them into things they are not. Usually into something passive aggressive meant to slight me in some horrible way. My logical brain knows this is not the truth, but my girl brain makes it so.

2. My stupid girl brain makes ridiculous demands.

What my girl brain says: “I WANT CHOCOLATE!!!”

What I say: “Girl brain, it’s 7:30am. No chocolate.”

What my girl brain says: “YOU WILL GET ME CHOCOLATE NOW OR I WILL RELEASE A FLOOD OF HORMONES SO HORRIFIC YOU WILL UNCONTROLLABLY SOB FROM NOW UNTIL NEXT WEEK!”

What I say: “You win, girl brain. You win.”

3. My stupid girl brain makes me sob uncontrollably.

What I say: “Today is a good day for laundry. I should also reorganize my dresser drawers.”
[I then proceed to remove and re-fold everything in my dresser, when girl brain interrupts my progress.]

What my girl brain says: “Why can’t you fold this sweater??? Your lack of legitimate motor skills is really, really sad. Not sad in the pathetic way, but sad in the tears and other fluids spewing from your face kinda way.”

Yes, every few weeks I cry uncontrollably about nothing. Last week I really did cry all day because I couldn’t fold a sweater properly. Then I got an eyelash in my eye. That really pushed me over the edge.

4. My stupid girl brain is mean and critical.

What I say: “These jeans fit perfectly. And they’d look so cute with my new riding boots!”

What my girl brain says: “What is with that little strip of fat poking out of the top? And look at your thighs! Maybe these would look better on you if you stopped eating chocolate at 7:30 in the morning.”

5. My stupid girl brain is masochistic.

What I say: “No, you’re not going to look at the ex’s new girlfriend’s photos on Facebook. You’ve got better things to do with your time. Plus, you’ve got someone new so you don’t care.”

What my girl brain says: “YOU WILL LOOK AT THOSE PHOTOS RIGHT NOW. THEN YOU WILL LOOK AT ALL OF HER FRIENDS’ PHOTOS. Then you will ask your friends to look at them and tell you that you are prettier. And happier. And so much better off without him.”

What I say (while eating a bag of Fritos in bed): I HATE YOU, GIRL BRAIN.

—

I love being a girl (especially because I can use makeup to cover up the puffy, post-sob fest dark circles under my eyes), but sometimes this girl brain thing is just too much. I’m irrational, I’m angry, I’m emotional…and hard as I try, there’s nothing I can do to change it. Much like boobs and the ability to have children, it sorta comes with the territory. And that just makes my girl brain rage even more.

Sigh. Grrr. Sob.

To the man (actually, I have a feeling it was probably a woman with PMS) who first decided to mix salty and sweet all in the same bite, I tip my fedora to you. Why we don’t have a chapter dedicated to you in our history books (between the first space expedition and the Civil Rights movement), I’ll never know. Because you were a revolutionary. A game changer.

You saw a gap and you filled it with sweet and salty goodness (and if you’ve ever had caramel popcorn or a chocolate covered potato chip then you know JUST what I’m talking about).

You REALLY understood what it means to be a w-o-m-a-n and our inability to make up our minds. First we want salty, then sweet, then a tuna sandwich (or is that just me?), then the whole cycle repeats itself.

But you went ahead and put it all together into one perfect little package and all was good in the world. And in my belly. Thanks to you, these 5 delectable sweet/salty treats were made possible. And thanks to me, everyone can know about and indulge in them.

Food Should Taste Good Chips in “Chocolate”: Not what you think. Not chocolate covered chips, but chips infused with chocolate. It’s completely different and totally unlike anything I’ve ever eaten before. Would you judge me if I admitted that I once ate an entire bag in a day? True story. Totes worth the muffin top. And hey, with all-natural ingredients it can’t be that bad for me, right?!

Pretzel M&Ms: I mean seriously ,does the newest addition to the M&M fam need any explanation (aside from that they’re even better with a little peanut butter on a spoon?!) And at 150 calories a pack, these aren’t TERRIBLE in portion controlled amounts.

Popcorn and Chocolate Chips: Pop a bag of healthy popcorn (like Orville Redenbacher’s 100 calorie packs) and sprinkle a few chocolate chips in there for a little bit of sweet without too much guilt. It’s a snack fit for TV premiere week.

Pretzels and Frosting: Sounds weird, tastes like a total unrealness. We used to gorge on this in high school (which explains the baby fat I sported until college….). Any flavor of frosting will do, but Funfetti is always a good choice.

Lara Bars: Specifically, PB&J and their newest (and most heavenly) addition, Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip.

Got any other salty/sweet must tries? Share below!

As you may or may not know, there was a recent recommendation made regarding how often women should be getting pelvic exams. Since most of us are used to getting them yearly and the new recommendation is to get them every 3 years, I asked Dr. Lissa Rankin what she thought. Here is what she has to say:

The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recently announced new recommendations that cut back on Pap smear screening. Why are we recommending cutting back on women’s health screening? Let me fill you in on the news.

New Pap Smear Guidelines:

1. Instead of recommending that Pap smear screening begin after you’re sexually active, new guidelines say that even a sexually active 13 year old should wait until 21 for her first Pap.
2. After 21, Pap smears are recommended every 1-2 years until age 30.
3. After 30, if you’ve had three consecutively normal Pap smears with no history of a seriously abnormal Pap, new guidelines say you only need to do Paps every three years.

Why the Change?

There is evidence to support the changes.  The truth is that you’re unlikely to go from having a normal Pap smear to having cervical cancer in 3 years, even if you contract HPV. Because cervical cancer grows slowly, it’s still likely to be precancerous by the time it gets picked up. And yearly screening does increase the number of procedures performed, and some of those procedures can affect fertility and pregnancy in rare cases.  Plus, cutting back on Pap smears saves health care dollars. And if we’re not saving lots of lives and potentially causing harm by implementing procedures that may not be necessary, why do annual Pap smears?

I understand why they’re recommending pushing back the age of first Pap smear.  HPV, the virus that causes cervical cancer and abnormal Pap smears, is almost ubiquitous among teens. As such, doing Paps will lead to many abnormal results that would require colposocopies, biopsies, and other possible treatments. If left untreated, the issues would resolve themselves, meaning these procedures (and potential risks) are not necessary.

BUT (and this is a gigantic BUT) there is a GINORMOUS problem here that carries far-reaching consequences for women’s health. Though women come to the gynecologist under the guise of their annual Pap smear, they actually come for WAY more than that.

Here are some examples of issues I handle under the guise of an annual Pap smear exam:

* Sexual problems that threaten your relationship
* Debilitating depression and anxiety
* Chronic fatigue that prevents you from living vitally
* Menstrual disorders like hemorrhaging or menstrual cramps that cause you to miss important life functions.
* PMS/PMDD that may be hampering a happy life

And that doesn’t even include the oh-so-necessary annual breast exam, internal pelvic exam to check for ovarian tumors and such, and the opportunity to make sure a woman is up to date on other cancer prevention procedures, such as the HPV vaccine for teens.

If women don’t come in for their annual pap smear, how will they ever fix the other problems that may exist?

The Bottom Line
Based on the information presented, it is totally up to you if you want to get an annual pap smear or stretch it out a few years. Regardless of what you decide, though, please don’t stop seeing a doctor every year. That is the only way to sort out any issues you have, especially those you don’t even know about.

–Dr. Lissa Rankin’s book, What’s Up Down There? Questions You’d Only Ask Your Gynecologist If She Was Your Best Friend, will be published by St. Martin’s Press in Fall 2010. She invites you to join her Pink online community (www.owningpink.com/forum) or read more of her writing at Owning Pink (www.owningpink.com).

Like most women, I get a little horny sometimes. (And like all women, I wish there were a less disgusting term to use to describe that phenomenon.) The fact is, I have needs and it gets a little old to be using a battery operated machine to fulfill them all the time. I love my vibrator, but it can’t cuddle with me, or play with my hair, or tell me how hot I look thanks to all those grueling Sunday morning boot camps.

And the longer I’m single (which is a long, LONG time – the closest thing I’ve had in the past 3 years was a guy I was dating for 2 months who broke it off with me via email…and called me the wrong name), the more I’m inclined to get into a Friends With Benefits relationship.

But I’m not sure I should really let my hormones make any decisions for me. Lord knows that doesn’t work out when I’m PMSing and those bitches tell me to eat an entire pizza…and dip it in ranch dressing.

Needless to say, I’m torn.

Love It:
Let’s be honest – we all want a relationship, but sometimes that relationship doesn’t happen and we’re left all by our lonesome. That means no consistent booty, which makes the #1 benefit of an FWB “Booty on Demand.” I am a twenty-something woman and I have needs. Needs that are only intensified when Ketel One is coursing through my veins. The fact that I can dial for booty is incredibly enticing. No more going home alone and scouring the house for batteries; just a simple “wanna come over?” text and I’m halfway to pleasure-ville.

But even more than the actual sexy time, an FWB is fun and exciting. It’s someone to think about when lecture gets boring, someone to flirt and play games with, and someone you are comfortable enough with to try new things. And it’s just someone else to hang out with when all your girlfriends are having date night with their super serious boyfriends and there is nothing to watch on TV.

Loathe It:
Well, duh, someone always ends up getting hurt. No matter how much you both try to (or convince yourselves) that this is a no-strings-attached sitch, there are strings. And they are attached. Maybe not on an “I love you” level, but in a “you are supposed to be my FWB, I am not going to share you!” sort of way.

And then there’s the fact that instead of going out and meeting new guys who could be actual boyf material, you are leaving the bar early to get naked with someone who will never commit to you. You’re wasting your time and skills on someone who will never give you what you ultimately want/need, which is someone who calls you before midnight when they aren’t elbow deep in Bud Light.

But then there’s that little horny devil on your shoulder telling you to ignore all that ish and get thee an FWB.
Sigh.
Is there really a right answer here?!

"Oh, I'm kicking that guy's ass? Poor guy..."

There are some things you should always apologize for, like being late to meet a friend, bumping into someone on the street, or accidentally running over your ex-boyfriend’s foot with your car (whoops).

But there are also some things that, as a woman, you shouldn’t have to say sorry for.  I don’t care what anyone says, but you should not be left feeling guilty for any of the following.

Beating a Guy at Sports: Sunk the winning shot in a battle of the sexes?  Poker faced your way to a win?  We’ve all been told not to beat men at sports so we don’t bruise their precious egos, but this is also not 1950, so don’t hold back and don’t apologize.

Bypassing Lines at Clubs: Don’t let the haters have you giving looks of remorse as the velvet ropes are lifted.  Flaunt it if you’ve got it!

Intelligence: Today’s “role models” may cultivate dumb blonde stereotypes, but a woman who hides her intelligence is not attractive.  Be proud of your smarts and don’t shy away from speaking your mind!

PMS: I’m not saying storm around like a juiced-up Godzilla, but don’t apologize for being a little testy when it’s the time of the month.  It’s not our fault Eve ate that apple, so curl up in the fetal position and bitch away.

Your Twilight Obsession: Don’t be ashamed that you obsess over a man that sparkles.  Who cares if you’re over the age of 16 and in love with Edward?

We don’t have to worry about our genitalia getting chopped off.
You’re probably saying whaaaa? But yeah, this actually can, and does, happen. Poor Stuart Keen is a victim, as his carpenter career left him hanging with… well…actually it didn’t quite leave anything hanging. He accidentally sawed off his own package, which he apparently thought was a cabinet leg.

No one has to know how hot we think our prof (or any guy, for that matter) is.
Fortunately for us ladies, we can be aroused and horny as ever, without the world (parents/grandparents/children, especially) seeing.

Nightlife is cheaper.
Cover charge for bars and clubs is often cheaper or even free just because we’re females, which no one can deny is freakin’ awesome. And how often do girls buy drinks for guys? I mean, yes it does happen, but usually it’s the other way around. So saving money on a night out is definitely a huge plus.

We can show emotion without having to think twice.
We can hug and squeeze our girlfriends as much as we want without any hesitation. Guys, on the other hand, are wary of such things. They settle for a pat on the back, a handshake, a high five. And sometimes we all just need a good hug.

We don’t have to bring sharp objects toward our face/neck.
The last thing I wanna have to worry about in the morning is getting a razor near my eyes/key arteries.

We don’t have to look the same every day.
We get to accessorize our outfits, put on different colors and shades of makeup, change up our hairstyle…the list goes on. Guys don’t have that many choices when it comes to changing up their look (or covering monster zits). That’s just gotta get boring.

Looks like I’ll deal with the blisters from my platforms, take the Midol for those cramps, and proudly say, I’m glad to be a girl!

What do you love most about being a woman?