Sass in the Suburbs
Heartfelt opinions & anecdotes from the crazy girl next door
Boss Bitch
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I was in fourth grade the first time the word “bitch” rocked my world. Me and my fellow feathered and jean jacketed friends piled onto the big cheese and took our seats according to social status as per usual. I sat in the middle of the bus while the blue-eye shadowed-I-already-lost-my-virginity girls stormed past me toward the back. Rosa Parks would’ve been ashamed.

Before we could head home to trade Charms, make friendship bracelets and drool over Kirk Cameron the bus driver very seriously stood up from her seat (GASP bus drivers can walk?) with a very stern look on her Cheetos-ridden face. “Someone wrote something on one of my seats and I want to know who is was or the whole bus will be suspended”

As I was contemplating whether or not she should have used “whom” instead of “who” I heard one of the fast-asses from the back of the bus guiltily murmur, “I did.” The bus driver then asked the future happy-ending delivering manicurist to read what she had written.

I snapped out my grammatical enigma  just in time to hear what was written in permanent black marker for the world to see, “Bobbie is a bitch.”

P.s. I am Bobbie.

Eight-year old me thought, “Why I gotta be a bitch? Who you calling a bitch? I mean i’m like super nice. I share my shit, I accept it when I get picked last, I’m pleasant to everyone.  Seriously someone called me a bitch? I thought that word was reserved for ex-wives and politicians.”

I’m still wondering how female dogs got such a bad rap in the first place. I mean they bear puppies for god’s sake. Doesn’t every one love puppies?

In the olden days I assume a bitch was thought of as woman with a bad attitude who was often mean, irrational, uptight, prude, ugly, on her period, rebellious, short tempered or with aspirations to work or vote.

Since then the word bitch has much evolved–enter gangsta rap. A bunch of gun toting, crack slinging, uneducated rappers taught us that that women aint wantin to be a bitch because bitches ain’t shit but hos and tricks. Somewhere along the line we learned that bitches get stiches and if you have 99 problems you should consider yourself lucky that a bitch ain’t one. (Btw the amount of “ain’ts in this blog is truly embarrassing).

In the 90s I was living in a time when girls were not supposed to talk back or stand up for themselves unless they wanted malt liquor poured on their heads. Modern day mob wives who were supposed to look pretty and stay home worrying while their significant other was rolling down the street smoking endo.

On one of those faithful days I remember watching Melrose Place and thinking that Amanda Woodward (played by Heather Locklear) was such a bad-ass. I was mesmerized with  her blonde hair, perfect make-up and shoulder-padded suits. The way she carried herself was insanely cool. So calm and matter-of-fact. She didn’t take shit from any man, woman or child. She owned every room she walked into. She told people to fuck off with a smile on her face. She had money, a kick-ass job, her own apartment and laughed when people called her the b word.

Next Meredith Brooks screamed about how she was a bitch and would not be ashamed and Alanis Morissette let us know what even being a crazy bitch was socially acceptable.  It was at that point in time that I aspired not only to be a bitch, but to be the bitch.

Being a bitch was now less about having PMS and more about telling it like it is and not caring what anyone had to say about it. A way to express yourself openly and honestly or just blow off steam. Empowerment at its finest.

Don’t be appalled if someone happens to call you bitch. If you’ve heard it once you’ve heard it 1000 times and trust me, I’ve heard it a lot. I’ve been called every variation: basic bitch, little bitch, ugly bitch, stupid bitch, psycho bitch, stuck-up bitch, spoiled bitch, drunk bitch, broke bitch, rich bitch, skank bitch, big-mouthed bitch etc. I own them all.

Girls and women alike should be proud to wave their bitch wand. If you are having a bad day and want to cuss out a stranger-DO. If you want to have a catty moment and talk shit about someone’s Facebook post-go for it. If you feel the need to kirk out on your significant other for no good reason-proceed, he’ll get over it if he loves you. If a crying kid is disturbing the peace in public ask the parent to get him the fuck away from you. If a co-worker is acting like an asshole-put them in their place. If an old lady cuts you off in line bitch-slap her (joking) but you get the idea. Being a bitch is a rite of passage, a stepping stone toward bigger and better things. No one puts bitches in the corner.

When that obviously-troubled and jealous girl proclaimed to the world that I was a bitch I racked my brain wondering what I could’ve done to cause someone to degrade and accuse me of being such a horrible thing.  I used to think that being called a bitch was the worst thing that anyone could ever call me. Now I realize it’s actually a compliment.

And hey at least she didn’t call me a cunt.

 

 

 

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