I’m a Bitch…

Well, no. I prefer to use the term Assertive, but let’s be real…I don’t fuck around.

Now, for the most part, I’m extremely kind and gentle towards my fellow man. I hold the door open for strangers, I give up my seat to the elderly and pregnant women on trains and buses, I call gentlemen SIR, and I say “Thank you, dahlin” to anyone I encounter who does anything similar for me. These are the manners I was raised with by my father and they are the same manners I am hoping to raise my daughter (and future children) with.

Yet something far more sinister takes place when a person does the opposite of these things.

When someone deliberately doesn’t hold a door for me, I say “thank you” with snark. When someone goes through a door I’m holding without saying “thank you,” I say “You’re Welcome,” with snark. Still, none of these tendencies truly encompass the all around general hurricane of a person I turn into when you give me attitude. Oh man, attitude…

I turn into a fucking tempest. Now to be fair, a tempest for me (from what I’m told) is just a very even toned unleashing of all the things a person doesn’t want you to point out about their character. My dear cousin once introduced me to friends as a wonderful person, but “don’t piss her off, or she will make you cry with a smile on her face. She has words that cut like razorblades.”

I didn’t know this about myself until he said it, but I acknowledge that it is true. Let’e be real, I’m a fucking BEAR. Especially when the person exhibiting the behavior is unleashing it on someone else, someone that I love or care for – I will go house on them. Wow…I suddenly understand all those people who said I was terrifying upon first meeting me… not that I burst in the door and set fire to their villages, but I think a person who isn’t afraid to say exactly what she thinks probably has an aura about her… why am I talking about myself in the third person, you ask? Because it is speculation!

When the customer service rep I was just talking to at my mother’s mortgage company gave her (and then myself) attitude this morning, I ripped him a new asshole – with a smile on my face mind you. By the end of the conversation he apologized to me for the way he came across, that he hadn’t intended to sound like he had an attitude.

Shit…it was as though I was that matriarch of the family at some grand upscale Thanksgiving dinner and he was my disappointment of a grandson and knew it. He’d crossed me and was shamed by it. I’m not displeased with this affect I have.

Now, to be clear – the smile on my face fades depending on the level of altercation, and let’s be real, if I’m in love with the person I’m coming back at for some remark or attitude, I’m a passionate motherfucker, I WILL yell. But then I’ll make out with your face after, so it’s worth it as far as I’m concerned.

So, yeah…moral of the story, I’m an Assertive Motherfucker. Thanks Mom, clearly I got that side from you.


One thought on “I’m a Bitch…

  1. Ok, so I feel there are 2 kinds of bitches–True bitches and Real Bitches. True Bitches are born that way and are just, well, bitches, no matter what the situation. Real Bitches choose their time to be a bitch and it’s a mark of honor and a compliment, IMO. I’m a Real Bitch. If I’m choosing to be a bitch, that means I’m standing up for myself, so call me a bitch all you want.

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