The F-Bomb

I was getting my hair done by my friend the other day…oh, and on a side-note, I am a brunette finally taking a step in the blonde direction. It’s on the list, only color I haven’t tried. Why a process you ask? I’m trying to keep my hair long. We’ll see, this could go two ways: typical brunette going blonde, or good.

But back to my original point…we got onto the topic of swearing due to the nail-tech dropping the “f-bomb” more than once with a client loud enough for quite a few others to hear. I, personally, don’t give a f-ugh, well, you get my point, right? My hair guidance counselor made a comment about how unprofessional that was. I pondered this concept. I think nothing of swearing, it’s my way of life. Sometimes it’s how I get through my day and especially how I get through my commute to and from work.

We began discussing cursing. I explained my spin on it, despite the fact it normally seems strange to most. I’ll start off by telling you that I view my parents as the most wonderful parents on the Earth. If you had asked me when I was 16 I would have told you that I absolutely loathed them and that I was counting down the seconds until I turned 18. I would’ve told you I would’ve rather stood on a street corner on lower Wacker Drive to make enough money rent a schleppy apartment than stay at home with the parental figures. However, now that I’ve matured and stopped viewing milestones in my life as the piercings I acquired I began to realize how much I appreciate them.

But my parents were not very strict. My brother and I are smart enough and were raised well enough to pass on grass and things of that nature, but swearing we were allowed to embrace. I would like to thank my mother for teaching me my extensive vocabulary – when it comes to “swear” words. Perhaps my mom is just that “cool” or maybe she just thought there were far worse habits for us to pick up than cursing.

In fact, my mother one time told me that sometimes there’s just no better word than the F word. I couldn’t agree more. My friend told me that she’s astounded when her mom drops the F-bomb and finds it hilarious. When my mother swears I don’t even think twice. (And let me clarify that she’s far far far from a white-trash mother wearing a crop top that you expect to be holding a bottle of vodka in a paper bag and slurring her words.)

However, I get that most families are not as open with cursing as mine. Mr. Man’s family is much different from mine. Only the adults are allowed to swear…despite the fact we’re 22 and 23 we’re not adults in their eyes yet or something like that. Because he’s still his parent’s kid. So he can’t swear until…well, that’s morbid so we won’t quite go there.

What’s your family’s relationship with swearing?

Oh, and just so you know the only time I won’t swear is when children are around or elderly people…but some freak accident happens and I find myself in pain or something I don’t care how old you are so watch out!!!!