I must tell you a secret about my mother. She is secretly a snob like me but is real nice about it. Do you know that she does not like to pour juice out of a plastic pitcher? True story. So for Mother's Day I got her a beautiful glass juice pitcher. Then, the other day I see her eating her cheerios out of a plastic measuring bowl. Haha, now that is class. I of course teased her about it endlessly and she will most likely kill me when she reads this. But I am her flesh and blood daughter so she will still be my biggest fan. It's pretty much a requirement.
Anyway, the above event made me realize that most all women participate in some form of "class juggle". Some days we get it and others we drop every pin to the ground.
I stand there in a pair of heels, gray slacks, and a white sweater looking put together if I do say so myself and the words, "blow it out your ass" come out of my mouth. I mean really; leave it to me to put the "ass" in "class." I can dress up, decorate really cute, be professional, act sweet, do my hair but the swearing like a fucking sailor is so bad. I try really hard to just, you know, not but I am totally cursed by stress induced word vomit. Plus, for some reason, it's sometimes so much funnier with a swear.
Why do women put on makeup and do their nails and then go to the store in a shirt with a picture of their dog appliqued to the front? Let us be real: your $500 coach bag does not cover up that you look like you haven't washed your hair since the turn of the century. These are examples of selective class.
Next time I choose a naughty word over something with a little more charm I will remember that we all have a little selective class in us and just try to do better the next time I open my mouth.
Until tomorrow, blow it out your ass.
Sara
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