Proud to be a Bitch

Ever been called a bitch and felt insulted?

I just got home from the grocery store where I was “debating” with an obstinate cashier over the price of Haagen Dazs Coffee ice cream. I told him that it was two for five dollars and he claimed that it wasn’t. So the cashier sent the bagger to do a price check. While we were waiting, the man behind me insisted that I should let him go ahead of me in line since he only had one item, a big bottle of Jim Beam. His breath stank of alcohol and he smelled beyond ripe.

Since I did have a cart full of groceries, I was about to let him pass. But when he remarked that I had held up the line for a food item that I didn’t really need anyway, I stood my ground and didn’t move an inch. The nerve of this short and stout idiot who looked like Sponge-Bob in dirty jeans and t-shirt.

Then he uttered the word. The word that triggered my inner assertiveness and reminded me that I am a:

Bold Intelligent and Tantalizingly Curvaceous Heroic woman who stands her ground.

I said that if he were in such a hurry to buy his liver killer, then he can go to the liquor store next door. Bitch he said again. Then I called him a DAD and he said huh and I said you are a Disgusting Alcoholic Dumbo.

It turns out that I was right about the Hagen Dazs so I told the cashier to wait because I was going back for two more tubs. After I paid for my groceries, I asked for an escort out because I feared for my safety. I was afraid that the angry alcoholic would accost me on my way to my car.  Then I commented that should they really be selling alcohol to someone who is clearly (at least in my estimation) drunk? I don’t know if the DAD got his Jim Beam, but I certainly got a lot of satisfaction in that exchange.

In honor of all bitches out there just like me, here’s a song for you by Meredith Brooks.

Bitchilly yours,

Lafemmeroar

© 2011 Lafemmeroar