July saw the finals of the women's
world cup football with the UK coming in a respectable third as they
played off against our favourite rivals Germany and the Americans,
who still feel the need to call the game soccer, won over Japan -
kudos. Certain things that stood out again, not only the level of
skill proving every bit entertaining as their male counter parts, yet
again proving just how tough these female athletes are some
journalists comparing them to the men. Close up camera shots of
multi-million Euro players like, Renaldo being palmed on the chest
and dropping to the floor like a bad actor missing his cue and then
making an embarrassing meal of it. Subjecting paying punters to a few
minutes of rolling around on the ground holding his face and
screaming for his mama.
Whereas American rugby seven's players
Georgia Page broke her nose, jumped up and made a crucial try-saving
tackle, her face smeared in claret with a come-on-let's-get-the-game
on attitude - that's rugby tough.
You will see some male players take a
hit and wince in pain and bypass the Oscar performance and chin
through. Watching the women’s' world cup last month you saw a lot
more chinning through than grass hugging and the aggression level was
on a par with the blokes.
Living with the female of the species
for over thirty years, admittedly spread over three or four, they all
had one thing in common. They never seemed to get jungle flu. The
kind that drops you into a stupefying, thumb-sucking, mummies boy
grasping your last will and testament while flicking through the
medical books on rare fatal diseases. They simply had colds and
soldier on hardly showing symptoms and seem to recover fast – often
saying: "If men had to go through the excruciating pain of
childbirth the human race would have become extinct long ago,"
or as they say in the Midlands men are just mardie.
So why is it that woman seem to be
tougher than men at least mentally?
Tests have been conducted, well to be
honest - hold it - I could fill this space with brain scan info and
impress you with research into this and that, but there isn't
anything conclusive because pain in my opinion is down to the
individual person those who have had a lot of it know what to expect.
Losing the love of your life is painful
it's a longer emotional pain and again down to the individual.
When I was younger, and without really
knowing, I had something inside me that automatically blocked out
emotional pain; often being accused I could have watched my family
being butchered on a Sunday and be at work Monday morning embarrassed
at everyone giving their condolences. I used to treat my
relationships like it. I was there I loved them, if they
disappointed me I would leave.
Bottling everything up works well in
groups of men who admire your resolve whilst moving in formation
through a jungle armed and programmed. Fighting so certain western
powers can sustain its oil thirst. It's a short lived grenade waiting
to explode and one day it will happen sat in a car looking out to a
grey sea whilst singing along to Coldplay's Yellow, holding a
recommissioned service revolver you bought from some short,
thick-eyebrow geezer in Nottingham. You are faced with unhelpful
self-talk, "come on, you're this far - have you got the minerals
- end the pain."
Something happens, you drop the bottle
of Jack Daniels, Coldplay's song stops and you actually start feeling
sorry for yourself remembering what the old man said when you used to
cry as a boy and hate his cold reaction. You then miss the old
bastard and burst out crying. You can't believe you're actually
crying because being macho you've always said the last time you cried
was when the midwife smacked your backside, so you accompany it with
laughter - it's too late, you are crying like a fat girl on hearing
the doctor say “no more chocolate young lady” and you can't stop.
You let it go, years and years' worth -
you shout, "okay I'm a woman with emotions I don’t care, it
feels so good oh-my-god it feels good." It's liberating. The
pain doesn't stop there you realise what a complete ass you have been
the past ten years and think, if I was a women what would I do now?
To which you realise a woman would say - fuck it, now you have
defragged your brain, move on. Unwrap the chocolate bar, find a
bottle of white wine, worry about your thighs tomorrow and stop
crying you lightweight!
We can talk about men being physically
stronger, that has nothing to do with pain thresholds because we are
all different and whilst having a high pain threshold can get you
through a lot of after time pub fights it doesn't serve you well when
your body is crying out for you to see the doctor because something
is seriously wrong.
My old man used to say: 'It's all in
the mind' - when he would tweezer out a splinter in my six year old
finger, suggesting I was moaning like a spoiled rich girl who and had
her shoe allowance stopped - take the pain, put yourself in a happy
place and eventually I got it.
The next week when he was pulling out
another splinter he'd said you didn’t bat an eyelid son where did
you go? I said I was buying high heel shoes that seem to disturb the
old steeplejack now who was wincing like a chocolate starved girl.
