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Bitch Please

“Here is to STRONG women. May we KNOW them. May we BE them. May we RAISE them” (author unknown)


Here’s the quote we see. We ‘like’ it. We share it. We might even be inspired by it. So, I ask, why aren’t we DOING it?


Because I can tell you right now, I feel I AM one of these women and there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m raising one. I’m proud of who I am and want my daughter to have the integrity, respect, and fight I have. I want her to have the strength to do what she feels is right and never feel pressured to follow the crowd. To always be a leader. I want her to know her VOICE is important regardless of any hate she’ll get from it. I want her to remain humble and know that absolutely nothing can stand in the way of her dreams and if you don’t reach those dreams, life will in fact move on, and it will be ok. I’ll raise her to ‘walk it off’ when she gets hurt and remind her that confidence is the most attractive trait a woman can ever have. That is what I call strong. And I will teach her that when others are weak, or intimidated, or jealous, they won’t call you strong. They’ll call you a bitch. And that, my dear daughter, will be a compliment.


Because bitches, well, “Bitches get stuff done.” Tina Fey


I’m not sure when “bitch” became my title, maybe as early as middle school days, but it’s been with me for most of my life. And as much as I laugh at it, I also embrace it. If being a Bitch means standing my ground and defending what I believe in, then so be it.


For the most part, I actually think bitches are simply honest. We aren’t going to cater to everyone. We aren’t going to follow the path everyone chooses or even care what people think of us. We are going to be true to ourselves and do what we want. We’ll support a person everyone hates, we’ll stand up to the bully, and we’ll certainly tell you to “F*%& off” if you need to hear it.


I’m sure part of this confidence...or as some say, bitchy attitude, might be luck. I don’t ever remember not being a confident person. I strutted through elementary school with a perm and mullet and never once did I not think I was the cat’s meow. I walked my high school halls wearing pajama pants and blue fuzzy slippers thinking my hot mess look was ‘totally cool and chic’. I was not the best looking, the skinniest, or had the best closet but for the most part, I liked who I was. Was I confident all the time? Hell no. But I was never intimidated to change who I was, or go along with the crowd, ‘just because’ and it wasn’t until adulthood when I realized how rare that can be. Female confidence should be praised, not criticized.


In high school I had a creepy ass teacher. He made me super uncomfortable, and rightfully so with shit he had said. So, when he would ask to go into the trainer’s room or classroom for a talk, I always said, “Keep the door open” when he’d try to close it. And I was called a bitch for this. Multiple times. “He’s just so nice!, how could you say that to him. He’s just being a friend...” Great, YOU think he’s nice, YOU go in the room with him and high five the creep all you want, but I am NOT. Teacher or not, I wasn’t putting myself in a situation I wasn’t comfortable in.


I’d rather my daughter be called a bitch, or goody goody or prude any day of the week rather than to ignore her instincts, OR to be too shy to voice her concerns.


Like me, I want Teddi to fully embrace who she is.


Being strong or a bitch is simply being authentic. What you see is what you get with me. What you read on my social media accounts is 100% me. My pictures are unfiltered. My words uncensored. I’m not pretending to be anything I’m not. I’m not trying to impress anyone. You'll never read a post to my husband professing my love for him to prove to people we barely know or see, that our marriage is perfect. You’ll see something more like how sometimes I want to drown him in the milk he’s slurping while eating cereal or commenting “that’s my man” on a picture of him squeezed into a 1970’s green leisure suit and pedophile looking glasses. I’ll tell him I love him and the reasons why in private, so no one has to scroll my page with a vomit bag. You’re welcome...


I love that I KNOW who I am, good or bad. that I can be the one people count on if they ever need me for anything, that I can be strong during the worst times when everyone else is falling apart, that I can laugh at myself, and that I know when I cry it means I’ve been strong too long. There’s plenty about me I wish I could change, of course. Like why can’t I just mind my own business and not let things bother me; I mean I’d have no blog if this were the case, but I can’t enjoy anything without judging others. If Bethany wants to use hand sanitizer on little Logan every 5 seconds, even though he’s licking the cart behind her back, why do I care? Why do I have to get almost physically ill when I see a 4-year-old with a pacifier or a little boy with hair too long that he looks like a girl? Why? I just can’t help it. Shit bothers me. Then I blog about it. Then people get pissed and the cycle of being a bitch continues. Blah.Blah.Blah.

Being a confident-strong-bitchy- woman, whatever you want to call it makes life easier to maneuver if you ask me and I feel fortunate I am the way I am. Not giving a shit about what other’s think about you is a weight off your shoulders. Living a life based on YOUR happiness and not the perception of what other’s feel is easy. We should all want this for our daughters!


And for these reasons, I pray I raise my Teddi, to be just like me. I already hate her attitude some days but know this will serve her well in her future. I want to raise her to be STRONG. To be confident. To be exactly who she is and not to be who the world WANTS her to be. I want her to be able to defend herself; physically, emotionally and socially in any situation. To remain humble and know what is really important in life and not have to “keep up with the Jones’”. To never try to impress anyone other than herself and be proud of WHO she IS. To not only be able to embrace her flaws but to laugh at them. I want her to be called a bitch for telling someone to “Go F themselves” when they deserve it and for putting a bully in their place when the victim has no voice of defense. I want her to be all those things. A total badass. And when she’s called a bitch, I hope she can turn around, smile, and say, “You wish you were me” and believe it.


Because, THAT is what you call a bitch, and I call STRONG!



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