The Redneck Review: Strength of a Woman

Men are considerably stronger than women, right? That’s what I’ve always thought. Physically speaking, our gender has a leg up on our female companions. It’s a simple matter of biology. Pound for pound, men are just built stronger than women. This is not to suggest there aren’t some women who can out bench press many of the guys I know (myself included).
I’ll admit there are a few women who have actually been blessed at birth with superior physical prowess. And unbeknownst to me, my own mother and loving wife are apparently among the chosen few. Let me explain.
Driving in the car with my mom this afternoon, I made a comment about how much stronger I felt since hitting the gym again.
“Me too,” she concurred.
“Yeah, your muscles will get stronger from weight training,” I replied. “And you seem pretty powerful too . . . for a girl.”
Oops. Wish I could get those last couple of words back. Not a great idea to walk the line of sexism while talking to your mother. It was too late though. The can of worms was already busted wide open.
“What’s that supposed to mean, young man? I was strong enough to go through childbirth three separate times with you boys. Show me a man who can handle that,” she stated firmly.
“True. Not many men would take something that extreme quite so well. But I think that’s more a matter of mental toughness than it is a matter of raw brute force.”
“I guess so,” she reluctantly agreed.
Mom didn’t want to admit it, but she saw where I was coming from. Sure, women of the world have to endure probably the worst physical pain in existence when it comes to popping out little ones. But when it comes to brute force, let’s just say that the World’s Strongest Man competition isn’t coed. I rest my case.
While on the subject of barbarianism, I made another mistake by mentioning the time my wife and I won back-to-back arm-wrestling matches at a friendly outdoor barbecue. First, in a stunning move, I pulled out an unexpected victory against my buddy Todd. He wrestled in high school (though not the arm variety) and was notoriously strong though admittedly out of shape. I, on the other hand, had been working out for a couple years solid and was in the best shape of my life. Still, Todd outweighed me by probably thirty pounds. It was one of the greatest sports victories of my life.
Next up was Shannon. In an equally surprising upset, she demolished Todd’s girlfriend with ease, giving us the proud title of King and Queen Arm Wrestling Champions of Bryan’s Weekend BBQ. Who says watching “Over the Top” (an obscure Sylvester Stallone movie) for days on end doesn’t pay? I told her it would be worth it someday. It remains one of our proudest moments.
“She does sound pretty tough,” mom said with a wry look upon her face.
“Uh-oh, I know what you’re thinking. You can forget it. There’s no way Shannon would ever arm wrestle you. Not in a million years. And besides, if you somehow did convince her to go toe-to-toe with you, she’d never put her back into it. She’d never forgive herself if she knocked you off your chair and you broke a hip or something.”
My mother has always had a strong competitive streak in her. And Shannon is exactly the same way. Many years of tennis has made this would-be gentle lady into a ferocious competitor unable to accept defeat. That’s why I knew she wouldn’t bite. If she ever sat down at the table she would be immediately confronted with an awful dilemma. Part of her would desire victory, regardless of the cost. But the softer, gentler side would not want to inflict physical or emotional pain on her mother-in-law. So she abstains. Smart girl.
What I can’t seem to get my head around is why either of them is concerned about muscularity anyway. It’s perfectly okay to be feminine in my book. Some might suggest it’s even quite natural. Why any woman would want to be more like us guys is beyond me. All that physical activity makes us very smelly. Shannon knows this because she makes comments about my rotten stench all the time.
But my guy friends couldn’t care less. For example, you’ll never catch a guy telling another guy, “Hey Jim, you smell especially foul today. Don’t you have something to cover that up? Here, try some of my after-workout body spray. It’s Essence of Water Lily, the newest fragrance from Old Spice. Simply divine.”
What all this amounts to is this: There are genetically wired differences in the two genders. Personally, though, I don’t think it’s a cause for feeling inadequate. We should celebrate our uniqueness and the wonderful gifts God has given to each of us. Men are inclined to strenuous physical activity. That’s why we are assigned the labor-intensive tasks of mowing the grass and taking out the trash. And females are typically assigned more nurturing roles (I’m already in hot water with my mom so I’ll refrain from listing examples here). It’s all part of the master plan.
It’s not that you gals can’t do these things. But why on earth would you want to? I’d much rather breast-feed the baby than build a new fence. Sure, there’s the occasional biting to deal with once junior grows teeth, but otherwise it seems like a wonderful bonding experience. The only way I’m ever bonding with our new fence is if I accidentally nail my thumb to one of the boards.
I realize that by now some of you ladies may be up in arms about my lack of sensitivity with regard to this issue. What did you expect? I’m a guy, remember? I’m not supposed to tiptoe around people’s feelings. It’s against my genetics. They call it being in touch with your feminine side for a reason. It’s unnatural. And we could never get away with referring to a woman lifting weights or chopping wood as “getting in touch with her masculine side.” Besides, such a phrase would mean something altogether different in man-speak anyway.
My point is this: Men are men. Women are women. It’s the natural order of things. Embrace it and your life will be much simpler. Fight against it and chances are you’ll eventually break down crying (not very manly, by the way). So be thankful for the gender God chose for you. He made you that way for a reason. Besides, trying to be something you’re not is an exercise in futility. And I’m pretty sure I can beat both my mom and my wife in an arm-wrestling match . . . put together.
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