If you’re a woman, and the comments about Barack vs. Hillary (commenter against commenter, brother against brother, husband against wife, and, the cruelest division of all because all they have is each other — desperate single woman against desperate single woman) have been making you emotional (i.e. screaming, shaking fists in anger, crying, maniacally laughing, filing divorce papers, canceling labia-shortening surgery), I have a simple explanation.

Your estrogen’s out of control, BABY!

According to a study conducted by University of Michigan researchers (whose votes will be chewed up and spit out due to an unjust primary calendar), estrogen “fuels feelings of power and competition in women” just like testosterone does for men. I knew it. My estrogen levels are dangerously low, which is why I lack the competitive gene.

OK, so maybe I’m just a little bit competitive. When I was little, I tried to save my Halloween candy until the following May so I could dig out my grocery bag of rotting candy from my closet in triumph because I had saved it longer than my sisters. I fought tooth and nail for the coveted role of narrator in our annual Christmas pageant at St. John’s (despite the fact that they had to equip me with a microphone because I was so soft-spoken).

In high school, I temporarily ruined my friendship with Smooch so I could make the freshman cheerleading squad, even though she was better. (Speaking of super-high estrogen, never go up against Smooch. Ever.) In college, I could perform a perfect keg stand, impressing all the boys and making myself the envy of all the girls, alcohol poisoning be damned.

As an adult, my competitive drive has decreased significantly, with one exception. This blog. Do you realize I’ve had this blog for over THREE YEARS?! It’s like I’m trying to be the oldest living blogger in the world. This blog has provided me with a much-needed outlet for ranting, arguing, pissing off, lying, spewing senseless rhetoric, listening to myself talk, making enemies, losing friends, attacking readers, and churning out the excess estrogen.

Oh don’t kid yourself. I’m not the only one. I love that you all remind me of my relatives at a family reunion, where we spend the better part of our quality time together arguing over who was the best Kennedy and questioning whether I really share their DNA.

(Sidebar: The past two posts have generated 200 comments and counting. And, despite the back and forth and bickering, I think we finally found common ground, something we can all agree on — Hillary will be the nominee.)

ZINGER!