Mars and Venus

Scenario I

I'm grouchy: This usually is because I'm worried about finances or family issues. Or maybe it's because I haven't left the house for five days straight and Paul's working 92 hours a week at his job as a sjdokradsjk and I can't get a break from the kids. Or it's PMS. Or I've cut too far back on the carbs. (It's a scary thing when all of these things happen on the same day. Trust me.)

How I handle it: Snap at everyone in the house. Or I don't talk to anyone at all. I put on The Face and give everyone The Look. If you touch me, I will cut you.

He's grouchy: This usually means he's feeling neglected or rejected (see above). Or the baseball game was preempted by a State of the Union Address. Or there are no cookies in the house.

How he handles it: Ice cream. Playstation.

Scenario II

My pants feel tight: This means, obviously, I have put on a few pounds.

How I handle it: Cut carbs. Exercise. Smaller portions. Wear Fat Pants until Normal Pants fit comfortably again.

His pants feel tight: "These pants shrunk in the dryer!" he exclaims, full of wonder and amazement at this curious phenomenon. When I point out that he's had the pants for over five years and they've been washed a gazillion times already, he presents with a look I can only describe as: The Fly-Catcher. He has absolutely NO clue what I'm talking about.

How he handles it: Shrugs. Puts on bigger different pants. Eats a trough of ice cream after dinner. Gets himself a Snickers when sent to the store to buy toilet paper. Waits it out because the smaller shrunken pants always stretch back out again for some unknown reason in, oh, a week or two. (I. HATE. MEN.)

Scenario III

I'm feeling affectionate: Everything is right in my world. (And all the planets have aligned and hell is getting a little chilly.) Or I've lost a few pounds because my Normal Pants fit. Comfortably!

How I handle it: Hug and slobber over the kids. Hug and slobber over Paul. Hug and slobber over the laptop. No one is spared. This condition usually lasts about 15 minutes. Unless the Normal Pants are actually LOOSE (the mere idea makes me want to french kiss my computer screen), in which case the condition lasts for at least 20-25 minutes or until I gain five pounds, whichever comes first.

He's feeling affectionate: I just cooked a meal that he's enjoyed very much. Or he just got a call from a friend who has free tickets to a game of some sort. Or it's Nip/Tuck night. (It's a scary thing when all of these things happen on the same day. Trust me.)

How he handles it: Playfully groping and grabbing me every time he walks by. No hugging. That would be boring. Pays no attention to The Face or The Look. (Which prompts me to move on to the Slamming of the Cabinets and Drawers.)

Do you see a pattern here? Follow along, people! No wonder men aren't as moody as women! If we didn't worry so much about what we eat, we would all be more pleasant, more affectionate people who believe in the Dryer Fairy! Wouldn't that be sad nice? Women clearly need to ingest more carbs, more fat, and more calories so they can be happier people! *she says as she shoots a Look at her husband on the way to the freezer for a lowfat, reduced calorie, no-sugar-added fudgicle*