Bitch

Is there a magical age you reach in life where the unwarranted advice about how to live your life stops?

I’m almost 27, paid my way through college, moved out at 18, lived in several states and has never been or asked to be bailed out financially by my parents or anyone else for that matter. Thanks, I think I’ve got it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve smashed my face into the wall of life plenty of times but I eventually figure it out–problem solve.

Who else feels like the constant input from inside and outside sources does more damage than good? Not to say advice isn’t given without good intentions, but damn. If it were socially acceptable to scream SHUT IT as an adult, without being labeled as an immature jackass, I think I’d spend most my time screaming it.

When does advice become detrimental to the person receiving it? We all know there’s no such thing as a perfect person, but hotdog do people forget so easily.

I hate being corrected, but there is a time and place when it needs to happen. For example: I’m going into a meeting with a person from a big magazine and two seconds prior to that meeting I mispronounce the big wig’s last name. Yes, correct me.

I’m talking in a casual conversation around people I’m comfortable with and I switch up words, mistakenly, but you know I know what I meant and instead of allowing the conversation to continue, you interrupt to correct me.

Expect a donkey punch to your crack. Or at least know I’m imagining the event of giving you a swift kick in the ass. 

When did it become acceptable for a strong and independent woman to relish in the compliment of being a bitch?  Yes, there are exceptions.

(1) You are called one by a friend(s) you’ve known long enough that it won’t annoy you. I have two friends I wouldn’t immediately want to knock in the nose if they in passing called me a bitch, but I’ve also known them for 5+ years and have been through life moments with them. They are also the only two people I call friends. They’re my exception. 

Call me old fashion, but the word bitch means we’re about to fight.

(2) You call yourself a bitch in front of others and it sparks the conversation. I’m not going to flip my shit when I brought up the adjective myself. 

These are the only exceptions I can fathom allowing the word bitch to be used. Yet, I find myself being described as a bitch by all who come in contact with me.

But why? I couldn’t tell you. My only insight to the matter is because I don’t frolic in a flowerbed, chasing rainbows and walking around with a plastic smile 24/7.

I like football, getting sweaty and have a fondness for the swear word, fuck.

That must be it, I like the word fuck so I can’t be described as sweet. Silly Shannon, fuck is for bitches! 

Know it alls and one uppers. Aren’t you tired of trying to keep up? How do you suck wind in-between always rocking a messy bun as well and explaining the difference between mundane topics nobody asked for you to explain?

Do you just pass out at night exhausted from trying to keep up, or lay in bed thinking of scenarios you can respond to the next day…

How come when good people do asinine events, said asinine event is washed away because they’re a good person and didn’t mean it. But when somebody like me, cough bitch, does something stupid or insensitive, I’m expected to apologize.

Alex, I’ll take life is unfair [no shit] for $500.

How many readers assume I’m bashing my keys into oblivion while I write this? And envisioning my face red with anger while steam comes out of all orifices on my face.

Live your own life people, stop pointing at the human currently feeling like she’s living in a fish bowl.

Currently: [[wanting tamales]] [[watching dateline]]  & [[wondering if this post could be made into a standup routine]]

 

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s