Life isn't fair.

My last blog "Men can be SO BLOODY IRRITATING" has managed to infuriate a number of souls, am afraid.
One of my best buddies actually thought everything written in it was horriby feministic and unfair considering that not all men are insensitive bastards the way the blog insinuates.
Another one went on to say, 'I will quote'; Hannah, you are still as stubborn as ever. Will it ever get into your head that boys will always be boys? You dont deserve that saint of your hubby. Him being insanely jealous only means he loves you to bits. Why is it that the best guys are wasted on stubborn feminist like yourself?"

You know what, the last question got me thinking really hard about my life. People have always thought good things were wasted on me.
For example; When I was a baby, my aunt tells me my mom used to say the Hebrew name, "Hannah" which means "Graceful" in English, was wasted on me for I was a wicked bundle of screams and tears, not joy. I am told I would persistently scream till I got what I wanted. And when time came for my mum to wean me off the boob, I cried for ten days without giving my poorly immature lungs a break.
Growing up, my elder brother bullied me relentlessly and turned me into a terrible tomboy. My hair would always be cut very short_almost bald. I was that devastatingly naughty girl who was always among a bunch of boys climbing trees. I never used to wear pink or participate in anything girlish going on around the house. I was a constant source of frustration for my mother who eventually had to use the oldest trick in the book to turn me into a proper lady. She always used to cry everytime I got into trouble whether at school or around the neighbourhood for mischief. She must have thought I was cursed with the evil associated gay-gene or something......why else would she cry? Anyway, maybe I was just a handful...lol
My grandmother (God rest her soul) on the other hand thought it pointless to teach me any wifery duties like, cooking and washing since she was a hundred and twenty percent sure I would never get hitched....... (she must have turned in her grave when I did). However, she would always say a special rosary for me every night asking The Almighty to relieve me of my satan-accompanied stubbornness and tomboyshness. (It worked I must say).
Whilst my Nana was all over me like a bad nappy rash with her rosary beads, it was my aunties from my dad's side who always managed to raise my temper to a dangerous effervescing point. They would go on and on about how they could not understand why splendid feminine qualities like shapely hips and boobs were wasted on somebody who did not deserve them; somebody like me. And It wasn't just my family on my case. Even people I had no blood ties with thought they had a say in my being stubborn and flippant. I really felt seriously smothered. I truly believed these people were trying to tell me how to live my life and I did not like it. So I resorted to day dreaming and numbed all my sensory nerves. It worked like a charm. The only disadvantage of my new found antidote to these people's salty insults and complaints was that it did not have a positive effect in my life academically. I remember day dreaming all the lessons I thought excruciatingly boring away in my school days. That frustrated the wits of almost all my teachers for they believed I did not make good use of my "super brains".......another super quality wasted on me.....shooo!

And believe it or not, when I reproduced, everybody including my best friend almost suffered a heart attack from shock. My aunt instantly aged prematurely and she is now in a nursing home.....lol When I asked why everybody thought my reproducing strange, they told me that somehow the word reproduction and my name didnt really make sense in the same sentence........absolute mania.

Well, isnt it funny how life's lottery distributes its prizes and awards to the least suited candidates? For example; mostly, the least maternal women turn out to be annoyingly fertile, while the most maternal may have to strive to beget. Beautiful women who have more than a fair share of sexy admirers are sometimes indifferent to sex, while plain women are troubled with the highest libidos of secret nymphomaniacs.
Those with the talent to be artists may not have the temperament, and some with the ambition for glory do no have the talent. Those who have the brains may not be diligent enough, and the most diligent ones lack the brains. And those more suited to the role of marriage get the worst partners and vice-versa.

Sorry guys, but life is a bitch so deal with it!