I wonder how many times I’ve been called a bitch? Was I a bitch because I have strapped “them” on and wrestled the proverbial bulls? Did I wear the title because I stood for my beliefs? Is it bitchy because I’m the boss and confident with decision making? I don’t know. However, I suspect that because I have refused (or been unable) to act subservient or lesser-than, that the bitch word has likely been attached to certain conversations about me.
Neighbors actually talk to each other in my neighborhood. Here’s a recent conversation that I overheard between spouse and another retired man as he walked his dog. “Gorgeous day today, isn’t it?” spouse greeted dog-walking neighbor. “It sure is. It’s the kind of day that makes me glad to be retired, even without my late wife,” he noted. He lengthened his pooch’s flexi-leash. “I’ve learned to enjoy life without my wife—she died 12 years ago. But I’ve gotta friend—he just turned 70—and all he […]