It’s Okay to Be Big, Bitches

I’m having an anxiety attack. Palms sweaty. Breathing in gulps. Dark glob in my solar plexus. Checking Facebook like a freak. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.

Refresh. Refresh.

Refresh.

Full Disclaimer: I’ve been drinking coffee for the past eight hours. But still, what’s with all the angst?

Well… I just posted something on FB.

It all started during a coaching call while I was taking notes on my giant Post-It pad as I’m wont to do. My client said something about getting too big for her britches and I erred and wrote “getting too big for her bitches.”

I was in love. What a novel idea. Getting too big for our bitches. I hung up the phone and went and made the meme below—snorting and guffawing the whole time. I thought it was, perhaps, the most brilliant Freudian slip of all time.

As soon as I clicked submit though, I started to feel anxious. What was it? Why was I so worried about a meme? My inner “good girl” went crazy…

…what if one of my dear friends thinks I’m calling her a bitch?

… bitch is such a negative word. It’s so derogatory toward women. Hey, subconscious, why don’t you make it okay by choosing actual bitches for the photo? Yeah, that’ll make it better.

… how dare I put something up about supposedly surpassing another woman? What’s that about? I don’t want to trigger that energy—that I would somehow surpass one of my kind. There are so many problems with that… “Bitches” gotta stand together. What is this? A competition? Ick. I would never want any woman to think I thought I was better than they are. I wouldn’t want them to be upset over any amount of success I might have.

Ah… and there it is, folks.

The crux.

That black, crusty wad in my stomach.

Somehow, if I dare to be big, my “bitches” (cringe) can’t be big. They’ll hate me. I’ll lose them. Gotta stay small. Gotta conform. Gotta be nice. Gotta be liked. Be a good girl. Kind. Gentle. Humble. Supportive. Nurturing. Fair.

Oh, dear Melanie, (and dear sisters), there’s enough. Enough for both you and I to be big. There’s truly enough: Love. Success. Joy. Money. Friends. Men. Or women. We can all have the perfect pair of jeans. We can all sparkle and shine. Indeed we can all be supernovas. In fact, when I shine my light it can only reflect onto others and cause them to shine brighter. That’s how light works, you see.

Postscript: Thank Goddess for punctuation, no? Otherwise the title of this article would read “It’s okay to be big bitches.” And, hey… no shame or blame if that’s your thing. Own that too.

For my visual peeps out there (Gulp):