As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to embrace various aspects of who I am. For starters, I prefer my coffee lukewarm, and smoothies? No thanks! I have a body that makes jeans shopping a challenge, and turtlenecks? Don’t even get me started on how they make me look neckless. I’m impatient, dramatic, and a bit rebellious. And yes, I have a mouth that could make a sailor blush — my knack for colorful language would rival any tattooed biker on a Harley.
In short, I drop the f-bomb — frequently and unapologetically.
Some may label my use of profanity as crude or unrefined, but honestly? I couldn’t care less. My reservoir of concern for others’ opinions is bone dry. Luckily, my creativity in expressing my indifference is overflowing.
Swearing is simply part of my identity. Asking me to stop cursing is akin to asking me to give up coffee or ditch my beloved leggings. Not happening, so save your breath.
I’m intelligent and compassionate. I have a sense of humor, and I can be gentle and forgiving. But I also swear like nobody’s business, and I won’t apologize for it. And why should you care whether I swear or not? If I’m not directing insults at you, then my choice of words is neither harmful nor violent. Let’s be real — there are some situations that demand a good curse. Words like “gosh” or “goodness gracious” just don’t cut it in true disaster scenarios. In moments of utter chaos, nothing feels more satisfying than letting out a well-timed expletive or a creative term like “sh*tstorm” and “f*ckery.”
Few things can match the relief of letting loose a string of inventive curse words after a jerk in a sports car cuts you off or when an oblivious person asks if you’re expecting (newsflash: you’re not pregnant, thank you very much). Whether it’s the daily disasters reported in the news or the delightful chaos of parenting, swearing is my go-to stress reliever. Some people knit; I unleash my inner sailor.
Moreover, swearing is not just cathartic but also a form of creativity. Contrary to popular belief, studies indicate that using strong language can signify intelligence. It takes brains to come up with variations of “jerk” (think: “jerkwad,” “jerkface,” “jerk-off”) and to wield “f*ck” as a noun, verb, adjective, and adverb. For instance: “I absolutely love swearing, and it’s absurd to think I’m messing up because I use the word ‘f*ck’ so often.”
And no, my kids aren’t going to be traumatized by my swearing. Research backs me up on this one — they’re learning there’s a time and place for everything. I don’t go swearing it up at their school or church.
Listen, some folks swear, while others do not. If you prefer to keep it clean, that’s perfectly okay. Just don’t impose your choices on me. Some people enjoy jazz, while others would rather pass. I personally can’t stand jazz and I’m a vegetarian, so I don’t force myself to listen to it or eat meat. I won’t clutch my pearls or shush my kids when I see you enjoying a hamburger while discussing your favorite jazz artist.
Recently, a friend of mine sent me an unexpected gift. She claimed I was “the ideal recipient” for it. What was it, you ask? A mug declaring, “I don’t spew profanities. I enunciate them like a lady.” This mug is now my favorite! Ironically, I was lecturing my son about cutting down on his “sh*ts” and “dammits” when I opened it, but I’ll save that tale for another time.
Life’s too short to pretend to be someone we’re not. Me? I’m a nearly 40-year-old woman who loathes kale, can’t stand yoga, and relishes saying “ass,” “sh*t,” “damn,” and “f*ck.” I’m not bad; I’m just confident enough to be myself. And swearing? It genuinely makes me feel a little better.
In summary, I’m unapologetically me — a badass who articulates her profanities with flair and enjoys the joy that swearing brings. You might want to give it a shot sometime!
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