>Nice Girls Don’t Bitch
>I am pissed off. I mean, just damn mad. I am furious with everything. I’m mad at asshole drivers that run red lights because they feel like it is their turn; thereby making my turn not my turn and fucking everything up for the rest of everyone because THEY are so important. I am pissed off that nothing ever fits me right. Ever. Bra straps fall down, shirts ride up. Buttons strain over my breasts while the rest of the shirt is baggy. Pants have to be rolled up, pulled up, and shifted all the time. My underwear either rides up my ass or slides down it. Oh how I would love to put an outfit on in the morning and be done with putting it in place! I hate that everything is messy all the time. Life feels like one long cleaning session. Cleaning myself, my counters, my clothes, my closet, my dishes, my drain, my baby’s diapers, spit up, piss, and otherwise. I am pissed off that as a race we are killing our planet and pretending that we aren’t. I am mad that there is such a gap between the wealthy and the poor. I am pissed off that Republicans have control of the house again. I am fucking furious about the state of health care and that I have to go to fifteen different places and pay way too much for too little help and a lot of blank looks. And that the Republicans want to repeal the first health care law that is trying to fix that. I am pissed off that I was born with a body that constantly betrays and pains me, in addition to being apparently the wrong size for any and all clothing. I am angry that I got a shitty deal in the parent department (50% of it, anyway) and that I have to sort out all the problems that caused.
Nice girls don’t complain. Nice girls forgive, are patient, understanding, and generous. I don’t think being nice is really working for me anymore. So I’m going to try being angry for a while and see where that goes.