Growing up we are all taught our manners, some of us a little more than others. Us women are most of the time always expected to be ladies; skirts, smiles, hair in buns all that jazz. Well, you’re looking at the wrong young lady. I’m not saying I wasn’t raised correctly. I know my “please” and “thank you’s”. But I also am not afraid to speak my mind, at times too much. There are quite a few other “lady” habits that I seem to wear away from in this day and age:
Shy away from gossip:
I am usually one jumping into the pool when it comes to this topic of conversation. “OMG! Did you hear that she did something with him last week while they were in this one place all day?” Then I can’t wait to post it on one of my numerous social networks just to spread it more into the world. We’re all like this in some sort of way, no matter how much we claim to keep a secret. There is always one person that we have to get this juicy, little piece deep inside of our soles out of us before it eats our whole brain. I, must admit, that a good way to get these out of our system is journaling. Real people can always become fiction.
Be intelligent, but not a know-it-all:
I already know that I’m not a know-it-all. But as soon as I learn something new, something that seems so interesting, I have to tell the world. I have to get it out of my system. You all know that I’ve already forgotten what I did ten minutes ago, so whose to think that this glorious piece of gold that has just dug it’s way into my brain will even stay there? I must spread it around before it’s gone. In a way, it’s like I’m gossiping, this one piece is not only more interesting, but you would be learning from it. It’s a win win.
Do not swear; class is defined
Well eff this crap. These days, I’m not afraid to cuss a loogie in front of my mom. She sure has raised a damn good lady here. So, I guess this makes me, Dick class? I’m sure even our glorious Queen Elizabeth has dropped the eff bomb once or twice in her 80 years on our Earth. I can only imagine her, sitting at her kitchen table in the evening, perusing through the paper and stumbling across an article about her ever so handsome grandson Prince Harry. He has, again been caught stumbling himself drunk around with crowd of busty blondes. She sets down the paper and stares across the table at Charles, taking a deep sigh before saying “I am getting too old for this shit.”
Never kiss a gentleman until the third date:
Again, I suppose I am not a “proper lady” in this day and age. When I have finally gotten a response to a phone number I had handed over to the nice looking gentleman I had seen, or an email I had sent on my millionth dating site, then after I have finished exploding with excitement, I go out on a date. My usual first date with a gentleman is just the two of us meeting for a few drinks. This gives us the simple chance just to sit, chit chat and get to know each other. As this first date begins to come to its end, I can feel that, that moment is approaching. I can feel something happening inside me. There’s a feeling of fireworks starting to implode in my stomach when I look into your eyes. I don’t know what makes me want to just pull you close to me and kiss you. But I do, and that moment is even more magical. So, screw you third date. This was the best first date a woman could ask for.
Stay well groomed:
I am told to stay well groomed while I sit here writing this, my hair thrown into a clumped together pile while I’m wearing the same jeans I’ve had on for the past five days and the t-shirt I slept in. I also didn’t clean off my makeup from my fun evening last night until I awakened at 1:30 this afternoon. My underwear is clean, though. But there shall be no worries, for the interview I have tomorrow, I do know how dapper I will be for that.
I feel that I am a lady when I need to be. But when I don’t feel like being a lady, then screw this world and I’ll just sit on my couch without my pants