When I was younger and dumber, being called a bitch would make me cry. It used to hurt. I'm over that. I am a Heartless Bitch, and I'm fucking proud that I'm smarter than the men I currently work for. I'm proud that I have a sharp wit and a sharper tongue. I'm proud that I would rather be respected than liked. I'm proud that my hair isn't long, and it's not blonde, and NO, I don't wear makeup every moment I step outside the house. I've fought like a lion against myself- every problem not worth mentioning was one I dealt with... I GOT OUT. I'm proud that I'm not some whiny twit wearing a size zero, vomiting up my dinner, and contemplating suicide at every turn. I'm a Heartless Bitch because I've been there, I've done that shit, and I lived to not whine about it.

I'm a Heartless Bitch because I don't care about the obnoxious blather that comes out of the typical human at every turn. I've lived, I've traveled, and I've learned only a modicum of what I hope to know when I die. I'm sick of "nice men" and even "nicer" women who are spineless, naive, and predictable. I'm a Heartless Bitch because I can be polite and ruthless in the same sentence. I'm sick of being told that being a bitch is shameful. I'm here because I go out every morning (or afternoon. or evening), ready to take on the whole fucking world, and I intend to do it, one situation at a time.

Yes! I want to read more from Real Life Heartless Bitches

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