Why Being a Woman Should be Considered a Sport
Whether it’s bending like there’s no tomorrow or mastering your run to minimise the unnecessary boob bounce, here is a list to make it easier to understand why being a woman should be classified as a sport, or at least as a collective sequence of exercises to provide as entertainment to the Olympic games.
Hair. One of the greatest dilemmas known to women. Even at a young age we are faced with struggle of The Sore Arm. It’s hard to avoid, but after a certain period of time your arms feel like they will just drop off. How do people lift weights when I struggle to do a high pony?
Cooking. When it comes to the kitchen, this is not an area I am highly familiar with, at all, but, if I know something, it’s that whipping cream by hand magnifies your guns.
Shopping. A simple visit Chadstone Shopping Centre will see you doing loops until you’re dizzy, which is practically exercise in disguise. Anti-shoppers just don’t get the miles and miles of leg pumping that occurs during a day of frantic sale snatching.
Heels. Some say they are invention made by men to make a woman’s derriere look more…prominent…but I say they are a workout hidden in the form of a fashion statement. There are a number of calf muscles used to strut your stuff, and there’s even scientific research out there to back me up on this one. But there’s also talk that mankind didn’t land on the moon back in 1969, so you be the judge.
Talking. It consumes a lot of time out of the day, almost constant for some women (me). With sleep comes a teeny amount of time that’s been phyiscally set aside to be silent, but even then some people don’t understand the concept of silence (my sister). The daily chatter we involve ourselves in uses a whopping 100 muscles, meaning it would take roughly 7 hours to burn off a cheese burger purely by talking. Challenge accepted.
Waxing. The amount of dedication some women possess is mind-boggling when it comes to removing each and every tiny little hair follicle off their bodies. All the bending and awkward positions legs and arms have to bend to reach every nook and cranny makes you realise the existance of muscles you never even knew existed.
Bags. No, not bags under the eyes, but really, heavy carry bags. These are just weights dressed up in disguise, where lugging them around all day can dint your forearms with bruises, all the while working those biceps.
Boobs. And running. And boobs. It was never a nice combination, more a way to slow women down, or knock their heads senseless.
Wind. Dress wearers unite in reading this devilish word. The pain and embarrassment this unwanted chemical force of particles causes really goes against the meaning of being ‘the bees knees.’ Skirts and dresses go flying uncontrollably, proving to be an even worse scenario when your arms are full of bags. The difficult balancing task means you can creatively move your limbs in a way to somewhat lessen the amount of people who will catch a glimpse of those extra large but extra comfy Nanna Knickers.
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