Weeding the Lot

Yesterday, I baked bread with Mom's guidance (and no recipe); it was a success, and doubly so since it was my first time baking bread (evah!).  Today, I'm baking with no help at all (well, my notes made yesterday between risings and such).  It's rising for the first time now.

next up for your viewing pontification:

Friday, September 24, 2004

Bitch

Bitch

Bitch

I won’t deny that being called, “BITCH” hurts me.  My first reaction is usually to withdraw into my Self and start blubbering a la Evelyn (Kathy Bates’s character in the movie version of “Fried Green Tomatoes (at the Whistle Stop Café) by Fannie Flagg); ‘why?!  What’d I do?!?  Why?  What did I do to deserve THAT?’

The truth is, most of the times I did nothing to deserve being called a bitch.  Every situation is a tad different.  But most of the times, if I look at whom are calling me a bitch, well then it all makes sense.

Usually that person is very upset that I am not agreeing with his (usually is male, sorry guys) opinion, orders, or other points of view.  So usually he quickly recovers from his shock that anyone, let alone a mere woman, voiced her differing opinion, daring to disobey his previously unchallenged rules….his anger flashes hot and usually he retaliates by calling me a bitch, sometimes then followed by what he thinks are additional insults.

In those cases, I am secure in my knowledge, in my right to voice my opinion, in my right to choose my own actions (and not follow his order), and in my Self.  I know who I am.  If his definition of bitch is that I disagree with him.  Well, then, I can wear the label with ease, usually taking heart in the fact that I don’t agree with him.

I usually take that attitude regarding other criticism that is not valid or constructive.  Rather than sink to their level and engage in petty quibble that can escalate into flaming wars, I choose to ignore those little irritants and move on.  Sometimes silence is golden.