Being a girl is wonderful and terrible.

Wonderful: having maternal instincts that make one more likely to care for and about people.
Terrible: having maternal instincts that make one more likely to feel obsessively protective of people one cares for and about.

Wonderful: the opportunity to create, bear and mother children.
Terrible: including but not limited to pissy, crying, blubbering, bloating mood swings; blood oozing out one's vagina; the tearing of one's genitals in order to produce the above mentioned children, making it not impossible to pee but impossible to clean oneself without the use of a spray bottle because toilet paper is not an option; uncontrollable vomiting from gestating said children; drooping, dripping boobs; and of course, menopause.

Wonderful: the innate love of things that are perfectly miniature, soft, smooth, delicate, and all around adorable.
Terrible: the not so innate, paralyzing necessity to be perfectly miniature, soft, smooth, delicate and all around adorable so other people will love us.

Wonderful: having boobs and hips and all around curves.
Terrible: the ease with which weight is gained and, post-childbearing, is practically inevitable.

These are just a few things.

Now to you boys who want to say "being male is just as hard!" I say:
Yeah, yeah, wet dreams. Spurting semen once every few weeks during your adolescence seems a lot less inconvenient than gushing blood for an entire week once a month from ages 10 to 60.
And unexpected boners? Annoying and embarrassing yes, but more embarrassing than standing up and walking around only to have a complete stranger point out you've got a telltale red stain on your bottom? I think not.
Bringing home the bacon? With the number of stay-at-home moms that are being replaced by stay-at-home dads, I'd say that's bunk.

During my non-crazy-emotional-pms moments, I do actually really enjoy being feminine. But sometimes I wish I was a boy. Sometimes I wish I could have played in the mud and climbed trees without fear, that I could walk around without a tampon shoved inside my purse for emergency moments, that I didn't have to worry about getting my clothes dirty or stained, that a skinned knee was a battle wound to be proud of, not something that made me tear up. It's not easy being a girl. All I can really say, I suppose, is that I'll take what I can get and try to be thankful for the rays of light that seep through the sometimes misery that is being a woman. There are things that make femininity livable, even if they don't exactly ever even out.