I Think That Maybe I Underestimate Myself...
I forget what a fucking force I can be. That's something I should work on.
So, I have a bad habit of forgetting some of the things I undertake. I forget that at any moment, I’ve probably got six or eight different people I’m pulling a few threads for, manhandling a scenario for an abuse survivor, giving an option to a battered wife, talking a teen through an exit plan so they know not to get involved; that if the worst happens, they know to run for help.
I just talk about this shit as though this is everyone’s day. I talk about it like it’s a regular old day at the office. To me, it is. And it blows my mind when someone points it out to me, like “um…yeah, so are you always so fucking hardcore?”
Well, if you wanted hardcore, you should have seen me at 32.
Me at 42 is mild like a fucking canned jalapeno, sis.
Me at 42 is tame like a housecat.
Me at 42 is wiser, and way more toned the fuck down.
But, to the average passerby, I’m a whole fucking unit out here, just running into fucked up households and pulling bitches out. Just engaging in political arguments and calling out shitty judges. Just really giving everyone a nice big “fuck you”, and not caring at all about repercussions.
So, today, I was told I’m “so fucking attractive”, not in a physical sense, in a “this bitch wants to rule the world” sense. And, I must say, that’s definitely the sense I wanted it.
I have this tendency to forget, in the grand scheme of attraction, there is a place I hold that is semi prone to give someone a semi. I’m 100% okay with that.
Because, you know what? I spent so much time with people who couldn’t see that in me. All they could see was what I’m not, the things I can’t be, the woman I can never be. All they could see is how I didn’t quite measure up.
But, today, today I didn’t measure up because I’m being scored on a different scale. I’m off the charts over there. I’m really fucking bringing it home, according to those percentages.
And that’s where I need to start running my numbers. That’s the white board I need to use. It appears as though I have been ill fitted for years, and in the right set of circumstances, I’m not lacking.
I’m just right.
I’m a perfect fit for this type of broad. I’m a genuine Bitchface, and it’s a tremendous look for me.
I’m not the woman who wasn’t good enough. I’m the woman who was too good for someone to expect to love me traditionally. I need extraordinary. That’s what I’m waiting for.
I’m waiting for my better half. I’m taking the extra fuckery, supercalifragifuckit route to my happiness. And I’m going to snap some photos and really make a fucking trip of it.
I’m taking the fucking scenic route, dude, so miss me with your interstate in a sedan melody. I’m a ‘66 Nova on a back road type of broad. You wouldn’t know how to begin to read the map.
Might have some milage on 'er but the classics are so gotdamn better than the normal everyday drivers. Even damaged bodies, they're good down to their bones. They're unique, weathered, expensive, exquisite, elegant, & worth way more! To someone u may be nothing, but to us u are EVERYTHING!!😘
You are more than a force….you are a VOICE. Speaking for the voiceless ( especially animals and abused humans) is not something everyone can do. I hope they aspire to it but you DO IT.