if you look closer it's easy to trace the tracks of my tears

So, I got yelled at today by an inconsiderate chauvanist loan officer, and instead of wanting to cry (which has been my choice of reaction to pretty much everything lately: grocery stores, green lights, hallmark commercials...) I glared at him and spat back a very sarcastic sounding remark. And I'm feeling pretty good about that.

Could it be that uberbitch is making a comeback?

[For those of you who don't know, or don't care to remember, my dear "friend" Charlie Anderson gave me that nickname in high school, referring to the alter-ego I posessed when dealing with recalcitrant boys in communications class who didn't want to listen to anything I said. Uberbitch is Mr. Hyde to my Dr. Jekel.]

In any case, I was quite pleased to find myself reacting in a more normal way, and encouraged that I might not have completely lost my spine in the last few years, or, that if I had, it is perhaps in the process of growing back. This is encouraging to say the least!

But I don't want uberbitch back in full force, only when I need her. Just enough to scare people back into line when they cross me. To make people realize that I'm not just some little girl they can walk all over.

I grew up with strong female role models. Anyone who has ever met my Mom could tell you that. In fact, as a young woman, I secretly idolized Murphey Brown -- the super duper feminist reporter who would just as soon step on your neck as look at you. I thought she was great. Powerful, strong, and feared. That's where uberbitch came from. That and my mother's temper, which I partially inherited.

But, oddly enough, I also inherited a bit of my father's lassaiez-faire. Litterally, it means let it be.

[Let it beeeee let it be! Let it beeeeee let it be! Speaking words of wisdom let it beeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I can see my dad sitting at our very out of tune piano, carefully picking out chords and singing this song...]

So what happens when uberbitch starts to slip and lassaiez-faire wanders in and thinks about taking over? Apparently, she cries a lot. That's what's been happening to me for the past year or so, but it's been much worse lately. My mother told me that she cried pretty much all the way through her 19th, 20th, and 21st years of life. Gee thanks, mom. Just what I wanted to hear.

But I think it might finally be taking a turn for the better! So thanks, to that jerk loan officer who made me so righteously indignant that I didn't want to cry! You just made my day! =)