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I Want To Be A Buddhist Conscious Mindful Bitch


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I was raised a good Catholic girl.  I grew up, got married, went through the mandatory Catholic repression therapy, had children, got divorced, became a family therapist and mediator.  I’ve shed a lot of crap, but what I’ve never learned well is to be a good bitch.

I felt bitchy yesterday and wanted to express my bitchiness, but I’m just too well trained to use my words carefully, to use “non-violent” communication, to couch my language in ways that make it easier for people to hear me.

This is all well and good for the majority of my life.  But I also realized, can I please be a bitch once in awhile and let everyone else deal with it?  Let them tip toe around me just once, just one insy bitsy little time and not give a damn?

I got up this morning and my goal for the day:  Be a First Rate Bitch.  Maybe for the first time in my life.  (We’re not counting all the bitch days extending into the hundreds due to hormones and too much Chardonnay.)

I want to be a Buddhist Conscious Mindful Bitch, just once.

The question becomes:  Who can I be a bitch to?

—Not my 14-year-old step-daughter.  She’s going through enough starting high school without her mom the (her mom is in the hospital for a year).

—Not my visiting-from-college 20-year-old daughter, even though she woke me up in the middle of the night, drunk, in a fight with her boyfriend and just HAD to talk.

—Not my husband who as I’m writing this is passing by my office window, stopping to give me a big smile and putting his hands on his heart.

—Not my clients—that reason is obvious enough.

—Not a stranger—that’s the cruelest thing to do, to ruin someone’s day I don’t even know.

—Not my dog, never my dog.

—Not my friends who love and support me.

So hence the dilemma.  I want to be a bitch and there’s no one to be a bitch to.
I feel this innate need to just let someone have it with a bullet full of words.

Maybe I could try to call in to Rush Limbaugh’s show, or Dr. Laura.  Does Ann Coulter take calls?  I could definitely be a bitch to her.

My normally sweet Southern friend Susie has a daughter who makes the word bitch seem like a compliment.  This daughter is a diva, entitled young woman living off her parents who accuses her mother of being a “kept woman“.

Slap her face!

They were at Chipoltes yesterday.  The final straw for Susie—said spoiled daughter grabbing the change from the 8 burritos Susie had bought for her and her friends saying that she “deserved it”.

Susie, in a loud Southern voice, said, “Why you little bitch!  I’ve had it with you.  You need to move out of the house and move out now and never come back again.  I just don’t like the person you’ve become.  You are going to be alone and miserable and no one will ever want to be around you.  Ever.”

Entitled Daughter stared back in disbelief.  They haven’t talked since and Susie is feeling lighter and has had fits of uncontrollable giggling.

I’m jealous of Susie.

Any Buddhist Bitch advice is strongly encouraged.



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