Taboo Words

I recently received an email from a reader. He gently chided me for having a few of my characters swear. Surely I could have found other words to express what they were saying. Maybe. But I didn't and I don't regret it. I wasn't writing me. I was writing characters. They say what they want. Aside from that, what's wrong with swearing?

In my opinion there is no such thing as a bad word. There are many I won't use. But that's me. Words are how we express ourselves. They comprise the poetry of communication. It's up to us to compose our statements in a way that suits us. Sometimes I use one of the biggies. But they are held in reserve and trotted out only when I want the listener to sit up and take notice. She said what? Whoa, she's serious.

Take the 'C' word. I hate it. It holds a special place in my mind for women who are lower than low. For a long time Ann Coulter was my only 'C' woman. Not because of politics. I won't get into that. But for saying something to the effect that those who lost loved ones on 9/11 were having fun. Even for someone famous for being outrageous that took cruel to a new level. So she became a 'C'. Barbara Bush is my second 'C'. She actually said those ruined by Katrina might be better off because they had so little to lose. Huh? Doesn't the stupid cow realize those who have little have the most to lose? It's people like Mrs. Bush who have nothing to lose. She can easily replace anything lost. I can't stand idiots with no empathy.

Now Sarah Palin has joined the group, bringing my 'C' women club to three. Again, not for politics. She gets the title for being divisive. I can ignore, even laugh at, her twisted logic and mangled English. But to constantly prey on those who can't or won't inform themselves of the truth is, in my opinion, 'C' worthy. Pettiness, snarkiness and lying are not traits I admire. This is a time when our country needs to come together. Never in my lifetime have we been in such need of unity. Yet Ms. Palin seeks to widen the gulf between us. I've tried and tried to think of one nice thing she's said, but I can't. She's even picked on a young man, the father of her grandchild. Publicly. Rather than saying he's young and she'll ignore his rash statements, she attacks. Because that's all she knows how to do. Truth? Just another victim of Sarah. It really has no place in her life. So my 'C' woman club is now up to three. I hope it doesn't grow, but suspect it will.

Men deserve a club, too. I'll have to think of an ugly word for those who belong.

Words are precious. Every one of them. None merit banishment because there are times when an ugly word is exactly what's called for. Who decides what word is ugly? Who decides what is acceptable in expressing ourselves? That's my answer to the offended emailer. I don't pick his words. He shouldn't try to pick mine. Vulgarity, like pornography, is in the eye of the beholder. Or listener.

The New Me

Every year about this time I get restless and want change. I get sick of seeing myself in the mirror. It's more than the fact that I'm not much to look at. It's boredom. My hair usually bears the brunt of these moods. But I can't cut it much shorter, and I'm too old to dye it raspberry. This year I bought a wig. What fun! I put it on, and suddenly I'm a new person. Confident and assertive. No kidding, I even stand straighter.

Did I mention I bought this wig without telling my husband? The poor guy left in the morning with me bidding adieu, and came home to a new woman. My wig is about an inch longer than my hair, and lighter in color. John looked at me and said, "I see you've been to the stylist." "Do you like it?" I asked as I strutted around him. "It'll take some getting used to." He didn't sound happy. That's when it hit. He thought the wig was real. Okay, hair can be dyed in a day. But grow an inch? I let him believe it for a while, then said, "You do know this is a wig, don't you?" I've never seen anyone look so relieved in my life. This hairpiece is gorgeous, so why didn't he go nuts over it? I can't figure it out. Unless he's just so used to drab brown hair the change was more than he could bear.

It's so nice to throw on my new 'do'. When I chase the puppy, who loves to grab one of my slippers and play keep-away, my hair gets messy. All I have to do with the wig is shake my head, run my fingers through it, and it falls back into place. My real hair just stands on end. I think it makes my boobs bigger, too. But that could be wishful thinking.

To all you ladies who want a change, my advice is buy a wig. You might get that extra boost needed to get through this endless winter!