There are two types of woman in this world. Ones that are scared to fight , and ones that are not. Ones that fear if they don't look good enough they will be alone and ones that know that they look just fine lying in there bed minus the hairy chest next to them. Ones that shoosh there kids at a restaurant because the grumpy old fuck at the table next to them is TRYING to bore his wife in peace, and ones that ask there kids to sing that 'Pink' song again, this time taken from the beginning and louder with the dance moves, as nobody deserves to miss out on your little stars song.
Ones that buy sugar..... and ones that do not.. And no, this has nothing to do with any jokes on us already being sweet enough.
Despite menstrual cycles and G-strings, woman have never been killers. The theory is that we were designed to give life and not to take it. Well I suppose the male to female ratio on serial killers supports that.
This is not to say that we don't fight. Everything we have today has been fought for, our freedom to vote (for those who care enough to,) our pelvic floor muscles (after babies) and our right to wear the pants (this wasn't the hardest fight considering all the good men are wearing skirts.)
In the late 1700's when Slavery was on the verge of being abolished there were still some greedy, heartless bastards in positions of power in England that refused to outlaw it. Just as abolitionists were about to give up something amazing happened... Sugar sales dropped dramatically, any sugar produced with the use of slaves was no longer being bought. Why? because woman do all the shopping of course. So back in those days inside those tiny tiny overbearing corsets there was room for the biggest fighting overbearing hearts.
There are two types of men in this world too. Ones that are scared of a fighting women and ones that are proud of one. Ones that will clip there woman's wings and ones that will clear them a place to land. Ones who's idea of romance is a ping pong show in Thailand, and one who's idea of romance is kissing off jam love hearts from the wobbly bits on your tummy. Ones that teach there daughters to follow the rules and not disobey, and ones that tell there daughters stories of there fighting aunties, grandmothers and mums that fiercely change the world with overbearing hearts.