July 25, 2006
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ESTROGEN – THE ULTIMATE WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION
Fifteen years ago I did a three year tour of duty as a house parent in a home for young ladies who had found themselves “in the family way.” I have the odd distinction of being able to say that I’ve lived with 76 pregnant women in my life time. If it seems strange that I refer to that period of my life in the same manner a returning soldier might refer to their time in
I could tell you stories about what it’s like to be the only adult male in a house full of pregnant teenagers, but I don’t want to give you nightmares. Besides, it might trigger a flashback and I’m all out of my Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder meds.
Shortly after moving out of the “home” my son and I entered into an existence of blissful “guydom.” It was just the two of us living together doing guy things like eating Ding Dongs for dinner, playing “Doom” on the computer until 4:00 a.m., and passing copious amounts of gas. I truly believed my estrogen-intensive days were over.
That’s all changed now.
This weekend my step daughter Chase came home for a visit. Her best friend, Dustina, also spent most of the weekend with us. Dustina thinks she is our daughter as well. Even though Chase moved away two years ago, Dustina still routinely walks into our home unannounced, goes straight to the refrigerator to get something to eat, and plops down at the computer to do homework. We’ve gotten to the point that we hardly notice this anymore. When you place Chase and Dustina along side Jamie and my wife, our house suddenly seems very small and I find that I’m suddenly back to living in an estrogen-intensive environment. Thank God none of them are pregnant.
I’m not really complaining. It’s actually nice to be surrounded by four beautiful women. And none of them were trying to kill me the way they often were at the Children’s home, so that’s a nice bonus as well.
Even though I’m a decorated veteran of the gender wars, I’m still completely baffled by some female behaviors.
The five of us were getting ready to go out to a Theater Tulsa production Saturday evening when Chase, Dustina, and my wife suddenly decided to play “dress up” with Jamie. They approached this endeavor with the manic glee of a bi-polar meth addict on a Starbuck’s double espresso binge. 200 clothes, make up, and jewelry changes later we were finally ready to leave. Guys NEVER play dress up with each other. If a group of guys were getting ready to attend a formal dinner at the White House and one of them mistakenly put their underwear on over the top of their tuxedo trousers, I guarantee none of the others would say a word to him.
I also never cease to be amazed at the sheer number of words that can be produced when a group of women get together. If they are all talking at once, how can they understand each other? A perfect case in point: I’m writing this on flight from
Well, I guess I’d better put my laptop away before I use it to beat the women behind me to death. I should probably refrain from that because the beating might release estrogen into the cabin and I wouldn’t want to be guilty of endangering the other passengers.
(To my female readers…this was written with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek. Please don’t send a suicide bomber packing an estrogen based IED my way.)
Comments (22)
I’m coming to Tulsa with my daughter, Alpha Bitch, my three sisters and two nieces. My mom can’t make it because she’s in Philly.
I can however participate in the guy activity of passing gas. Just give me some ice cream first.
You never cease to put a smile on my face, but you BETTER watch your back buddy!!!!!! (just kidding! lol)
I really enjoy your “tongue in cheek” posts, and this one lives up to your usual standards! I was cracking up at your descriptions, because they are so true! Ding Dongs for dinner! I know for a fact that when I have been away, the males in my house subsist on similar fare. Not one of them would ever decide to make something! I do kind of feel sorry for you on the plane with those women. You will probably not be able to nap! LOL
My in-laws were just down your way (Owasso, actually) to see their son and family. They go nuts every year at some peach festival. Do you ever go to it? The peaches this year are the best!
The peck basket they brought us says, “Livesay Orchard, Porter, OK”.
Kathi
You make it sound like such a bad thing to swim in pools of estrogen. Granted, you deserve a reward for any amount of time you spent with pregnant teenagers and I am happy that you clarified that none of the women in your current household are pregnant…but whats so wrong with playing dress up? You should have gotten involved, its much more fun than “Doom” at 4am.
Kids who think they are your offspring are not limited to just females. My son’s best friend does the same thing. I think I’ve fed him more than his real mom. And he seems to have a radar for when we are having a really nice meal because he will always walk through the door as we are sitting down to eat. LOL! My husband says the same thing about women and conversation…….how can anyone know what anyone else is saying when they’re all talking at once? I just think you guys are jealous that we can carry on 5 conversations and remember them all!
Of course you realize, when you get home, you’re going to find the locks have been changed…
Well, you certainly deserve a purple heart for surviving your tour of duty at the estrogen farm. I have to say, though, that I am just as baffled by the evidence of testosterone poisoning I see every day: trucks requiring a 40-foot ladder to reach the passenger seat; the obscenely loud motorcycle that goes by my house on a regular basis, tempting me to put spike-laden boards across the street in the middle of the night; and an utter inability to understand the difference between light-colored clothes and dark-colored clothes when doing laundry. Yes, I know I should be grateful that he does laundry at all.
That’s right ladies and gentlemen. Not only did he willingly expose himself to those weapons of mass destruction he also co-opted the life of a (somewhat) innocent young male child into service against the terrorists that were the 76 pregnant teenage women…
I still get the shakes when I hear the word “baby” or “man-hating-genital-cleaver.”
I’m terribly sad I didn’t get to spend more time saving you from the estrogen this weekend. The terror of adulthood and independence I find is that there’s these damn responsibilities that limit the time I GET to spend with the family I love to a silly fraction of the time I WANT to spend with them.
I can’t wait for you to come visit. I promise I’ll have the ding-dongs slightly stale, just we the way we like them.
You may be kidding, but it’s all true. I can say this because I’ve been given the estrogen curse.
If we should ever meet, remind me not to talk to you.
RYC: Actually, cold water doesn’t guarantee anything. Especially when he throws in something red.
My father, who was a WWII vet, a Marine who survived Iwo Jima, a Democratic politician for 30 years, an Alabama county sheriff for 20 years lived in a house full of women….and HE was afraid. He did have the good sense to leave often and keep his mouth shut. He used to say there were times when not even the dog would have anything to do with him. Estrogen indeed.
Since my complete hysterectomy last year I’ve been forced to resort to estrogen hormone therapy in the form of Premarin….concocted from and named after PREgnant MAre uRINE. Just like sausage and hot dogs, I was better off before I knew what was in it.
No estrogen bombs coming your way from here… I can’t stand hordes of gaggling women either. And I am one. A woman, I mean. Not a gaggling woman…
LOL
I must need hormone therapy. I’d much rather sit in silence than chatter endlessly, I see nothing odd in a ding dong supper, and back when Zelda was first all the rage, I was known to forgo sleep for just one more attempt.
You win, though. I’d have never survived around that many pregnant women.
And ryc: Nope. No Duritz wallpaper. I have a soothing water scene on my computer. But don’t let that get out. It might ruin my rep.
Women communicate with body language, which explains why we don’t really listen to each other, we just wave our hands about and get high-pitched. And also why we say “Nothing” when you ask what’s wrong.
In defense of the talking women sitting behind you….I normally don’t like to talk on planes, I go with book in hand and heaven help you if you try to start a conversation with me…plane trips are just about the only time I actually get the read!…but I went on a short 45 min trip to San Francisco on business and travelled with a very good nurse freind of mine who is deathly afraid of flying, we talked the whole way, mostly to get her mind off of everything. The buisness man in from of us kept shooting dagers at us, and 25 min into the flight he turned around and yelled at us to shut the F—UP!…I assured him we would, just as soon as he could show me that he was the king of the universe….at which point the whole plane errupted in laughter, and my friend and I continued talking until the plane landed….DON’T MESS WITH THE ESTROGEN BUD…YOU’LL LOSE EVERY TIME!
I bet that my husband would want to read this…..too bad he’s not a blogger.
When we did foster care, we had mostly teenage girls. Or pre-teen girls. It was enough estrogen to send ME over the edge!
Now….we’ve got a lot of testorone in our home….a husband and two little boys. Two little boys who are still a little young to fully benefit from having only *one* woman in the house. (maybe we’ll have a little girl some day…..!)
It took me a few minutes to recall that Jamie was a girl. I couldn’t figure out why your wife etc. wanted to play dress up with “him”…which should be “her”.
I’m a bit tired today.
I find that I actually have to make a concious effort to act like that– it is always with other females, and I suspect that they are making a concious effort as well. I also find that when there is a male in the room, this behavior is far, far more pronounced. I think that we do it just because it is expected of us or because we like the attention when guys say “wow, girls are weird”, and while we may act similarly while we are alone, there is not nearly as much energy. Many a time have I held sleepovers where all we do is watch TV for six hours straight and eat our way through boxes of popcorn. We may talk about boys we like or girls who like boys we like or boys who like girls who like boys we like, but again, there isn’t as much energy involved as when there is a male present.
Thanks for the laugh. You are a very good writer. I will look forward to reading some of your future works.