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i used to glory in my bitch rep. it meant that i was smart, witty, took no shit, and maybe a little sexy. it meant that anyone who messed with me would be sorry. it made me invincible. i had an answer for everything. i avenged every offense, intentional or not, with sharp words and a strong glare. i was most comfortable with my arms crossed, hip cocked. i called it standing up for myself. i called it putting people in their place. i was a bitch.

i slowly began to realize that for all the respect and strength that that title, that word bitch seemed to afford me, i was still lonely. i was still afraid. i still hurt and deep down, i hated being a bitch. really hated it. in the vitriolic exchanges that i initiated nearly every day, i didn't feel strong. i felt miserable and sick inside. and yet i couldn't stop - my bitchiness was an addiction, a fix, an escape. even as i was thinking, why am i saying this? i would continue being cruel, when i could have just said, "look, i'm sorry, let's start over." i was a bitch and i wanted to be that girl with the big smile who everyone loved. i was a bitch because i felt that i couldn't be.

today i'm maybe not a bitch. i still stand up for myself - but not to excess. i let things go sometimes. i do wear a big smile most of the time, but not without the occasional snide remark that makes people laugh instead of cry. the big haired, tanned senior queen. the girl who some people call bitch for different reasons, said to me recently, "jill, you say everything i want to but can't." my boyfriend, who didn't know me in those bitch days, always says, "i can't imagine you being mean to anyone."

the big revelation was that being bitchy didn't save me. the big reveltation was that being strong didn't mean being cruel. i don't need to stand up for myself all the time. only on the important stuff.

by picking my battles, being selectively bitchy, i accomplish a whole lot more.

and i seem a whole lot stronger.