Now, not to brag or anything, but my mama raised me right. I was always taught to say Please and Thank you, excuse myself from the dinner table before getting up to do homework (alright, who am I kidding? It was more to watch MTV, write angsty poetry and/or try to sneak smoking cigarettes out of my basement window) and I always had to be polite. To everybody. Friends, neighbors, strangers, that disgusting kid with bad breath and UFO pants that sat next to me on the bus – everybody.
I don’t blame her for wanting me to grow up (not-so) tall and grow up right, but over the years I have found myself in a plethora of situations that have crossed that fine line between being polite and looking like a complete f!@#$cking pushover (sorry for the swear word, Mom!).
I’m the girl who will let you copy her notes from the entire semester before the final without asking for a single thing in return. I’m the girl who will pick you up from some random, I-swear-he-was-so-much-hotter-last-night guy’s house the morning after– even if we’ve only met twice. I’m the girl who will buy you beer (which includes picking it up and dropping it off at your doorstep) for the fourth time in a week and not mention the fact that you stiffed me about ten dollars.
And I’m the girl who – no matter how hard I try – can not for the life of me tell my douchebag ex-boyfriend to f@#ck off – and that NO, he can not completely plagiarize my paper from last semester even though I am, obviously, an amazing writer with an impeccable way with words.
Basically, I need to grow some balls. Read More »















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